


Paris

by syddieleigh



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-01 19:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syddieleigh/pseuds/syddieleigh
Summary: After suffering a particularly bad breakup, Michael has taken a trip to Paris to hide from his unsatisfactory life back home. He purchases, on a whim, a ticket to the Slow Mo Guys World Tour and can’t keep his eyes off of a particular clumsy Brit with an amazingly large nose. He’s amazed to bump into him again later that night, and the two hit it off right away. What Gavin doesn’t know, however, is that Michael is headed home the very next day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Paris by Magic Man. It explains the plot better than I can.

Michael’s fingers tapped against the table. He took a sip of his tasteless bubble water; the only water anyone could get here, apparently, and looked at his phone angrily. If he could Rage Quit Facebook, he’d probably be doing it right about now. Instead he sat, tapping angrily, grip on his phone slowly getting tighter. He looked from his phone to his glass, where the liquid was constantly rippling from his incessant tapping. He stopped. He let out a loud sigh and dropped his phone, putting his head in his hands.

“ _Lindsay Tuggey is in a relationship._ ” The text on the bright screen announced to no one in particular. With whom, it did not say. Eight months ago it said, “ _…with Michael Jones._ ” Three months ago, it said “ _Lindsay Tuggey is Single._ ” Now it had changed again.

Lindsay and Michael had been best friends for years. They had been practically attached at the hip. They went everywhere together, did everything together, were always seen _together_. They were both fickle with relationships, and neither was dating someone for very long. Ever. Then, they started to develop feelings. _Together._ Everyone had been suggesting that they date each other for years as a joke, and everyone was terrified when they actually did. Everyone knew how back-and-forth both Michael and Lindsay were in relationships. They didn’t expect it to last long. They expected it to end with a loud explosion; pieces of the friendship strewn everywhere and awkward tension constantly in the air.

And so everyone held their breath for five long months. And it ended, of course. But not how they expected. Not with a bang. Lindsay cut it off quick and sharp, and they went back to being friends. Michael still didn’t know why. And to be frank, “friends” was a lot harder once you had been “more than friends.” Lindsay had bounced back immediately, but Michael hadn’t so much. He had officially been dumped, gotten over, and replaced.

All of his friends and even his own mother had suggested he take time off of work and do something nice for himself. So, where did his subconscious take him? Somewhere he had always wanted to take Lindsay, yet wouldn’t remind him of her since they hadn’t ever been there: Paris. Well, he had seen how well that had worked out. Every damn couple reminded him of her. So here he was, in the city of love, by himself. _The city of love ought to have a Heartbreak Hotel or two,_ he thought to himself, _they ought to account for that._ He knew now, that he shouldn’t be thinking about it, but thinking about not thinking about someone was really just thinking about them in a secondhand way. And Michael spent an awful amount of time thinking about not thinking about Lindsay.

The sky was gloomy, as if to match Michael’s emotions. What the sky didn’t know was that Michael liked the weather like this. It reminded him of when he lived in New Jersey, before he moved to Texas to work for Rooster Teeth. After a moment, Michael’s tapping stopped. _No wonder she dumped your weak ass,_ he thought. _Look at you, you’re pathetic._ He took his phone and closed out of Facebook, opening instead events in his location. He had barely twenty four hours left in Paris; he ought to use it in a more productive way than moping about his love life.

As it was loading, he looked at the bubbly glass again. It was rippling again. But he had stopped tapping. In fact, he was sitting perfectly still. He watched it as a fat droplet of rain hit it, causing it to ripple again. Then another hit his hand, then his phone screen. He looked up as the sky seemed to split open, and thousands more seemed to pour from above, hitting the pavement with increasing pace.

“Fuck,” Michael said, grabbing his things and running towards the awning of the cafe he was at. He watched the rain coming down with quite some intensity now, and found himself wishing he had brought an umbrella. When he glanced back down at his phone, Siri was displaying a message that there was some event about to take place in an ampitheatre two blocks away. He turned in the direction, hoping to find somewhere to chill just until the rain stopped. He guessed it was some small, artsy, dance or film festival type thing. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

To start, the amphitheatre was huge; it probably could have fit five thousand people. Teens and young adults stood outside of it and had begun filing in. Nobody scattered, despite the rain. It was a big event, Michael suddenly realized, which only peaked his curiosity more. But probably the most prominent thing was the giant posters and signs around it, all promoting the “Slow Mo Guys World Tour Exposition.”

Michael had heard of the Slow Mo Guys, they were one of the most popular channels on YouTube. And, in all technicality, he too was a YouTuber. So yes, he knew who they were. He was, however, suddenly very interested in what their “World Tour” was. And at that point, he made up his mind to go in.

A ticket scalper in a raincoat approached him, flashing pretty yellow tickets to enter the show. Michael nodded.

“Combien ne les billets coûtent?” he asked, having picked up a little French during his week in Paris.

“Vingt cinq. Vingt cinq Euro, monsieur!” Michael cringed inwardly. Twenty five euros was more than thirty US Dollars. Still, he forked it over and the scalper gave him his ticket. Running across the street to avoid the rain and taking his place in line behind all the fangirls, Michael looked at his ticket and noticed it was a VIP pass. Had he really just gotten into this show with VIP advantages for less than fifty dollars?!

The attendant at the front of the line let Michael in and told him where to go. Inside the stadium were flashing lights, loud music, and cameras everywhere. The stage had a large screen and several things such as watermelons, balloons, and paint bottles were strewn about. Another thing he noticed were the cameras. There were cameras all over the place. He assumed they were the fancy ones that had an extreme amount of frames per second that the Slow Mo Guys used, and that’s how they planned to do a live expo.

Michael found his way to the VIP section of the theater and sat down, mind wandering aimlessly and often times back to Lindsay, and thinking very little overall about the Slow Mo Guys. Until the lights went dark and he heard a British voice say:

“Welcome to the Slow Mo Guys World Tour!”


	2. Chapter 2

“…I’m just saying, you have to just find somebody and just bang ‘em,” Dan said from where he was sitting, “God knows that’s what I do.”

Gavin laughed uncomfortably and continued pacing. He was restless. It wasn’t that Gavin disliked doing the shows; it wasn’t that at all. It wasn’t either that he was anxious, or nervous, or worried about going on stage. He just contained a sort of reckless energy within himself that could only be released onstage. This led to a very problematic lead-up to going on, because Gavin found himself pacing, bouncing, singing, humming, babbling frantically, and doing a number of other things in his excitement.

He stopped abruptly upon noticing a security guard or manager of some sort walking towards them. He stood up straighter and straightened his lab coat, checking his pockets. His lighter, phone, and wallet were in one, his microphone attachment in the other. He turned excitedly and gave a flashy grin to Dan before turning back to the security guard, attempting a look of professionality.

“They’re ready for you. Places. Mics turn on in 90 seconds.” The man said. Then, to Gavin’s surprise, followed it up with, “Break a leg!” The look on Gavin’s face must have been very surprised, mouth wide agape and unable to close somehow, because Dan leaned over and explained;

“It means do good on stage. But good luck is, erm, bad luck.”

“No it’s bloody not! Good luck is good luck! What are you on about?” Gavin was appalled at the whole expression.

“It means the same thing, Gav. Theatre people just are very superstitious about what they say, and they thing to actually say ‘good luck’ is, well, bad luck.”

“They could still find a better expression than ‘break a leg’” Gavin half-laughed, half-grumbled as he and Dan took their spots. The house lights went down and half the crowd fell silent while the other half sounded like they were going to lose their minds. Gavin thought that if teenage girls had a scent, it would probably smell the way those squeals sound.

Gavin and Dan’s earpieces beeped, signifying that they had turned on. The jittery, bouncy, anxious, panicky Gavin evaporated. he was collected, and bursting with excitement, much like before every show.

“Welcome to the Slow Mo Guys World Tour!” He shouted, and everyone in the mob seemed to explode. He and Dan ran onto the stage, which gave Gavin just enough time to screw something up. He felt himself tripping over a disastrously placed wire, the floor of the stage approaching rapidly as he reached his hands out.

As Gavin felt himself tumbling to the floor, his sight flashed out to the mass for a fraction of a second, and in just that nanosecond of time, his eyes locked with a pair of reddish-brown ones that were staring back at him intensely. He felt a chill run down his spine, and a warm feeling in his stomach. It didn’t last long, though. He managed to roll himself over, so that his feet were now back on the ground, and he was sitting at the end of the stage.

“Well, then,” he said. Dan, behind him, was doubled over with laughter. He pulled himself up, dusting himself off and checking the crowd again for the pair of eyes that seemed to draw him in.

“It’s a good thing we have strategically placed cameras all over the stage so we can rewatch Gavin’s monumental wipeout in slow motion!” Dan called to the showgoers, who responded with hysterical screams and laughter. Gavin’s attention was brought back to the show.

Already someone from the tech was on it, amplifying the dumb look on Gavin’s face as he saw the ground approaching. But there were also several frames, in slow motion, of Gavin seeing the mysterious crowd-goer. His face lit up in a unique sort of way and hadn’t gone back. Gavin hoped no one else noticed it. He had a feeling Dan would have, though.

“And now for something we actually planned to film in slow motion…” Gavin started, but the clip was being played again. Dan looked like he was about to piss himself, which made Gavin laugh, too. It was then that he saw the pair of eyes again.

This time he had time to notice the face they were attached to. He had a sort of roundish face with a nice jawline, adorable freckles, and nice eyebrows - though they looked permanently pissed off. But what was probably Gavin’s favorite thing was the mop of auburn curls atop the stranger’s head.

As soon as Gavin had looked, he had to look away again. Dan was saying some things to the audience about how much they appreciated them and then said he was happy to have so many friends in Paris, (which was followed up by a chorus of woots) and turned to Gavin.

“So, Gav, what do you say we put some dynamite in these watermelons behind me?” He gestured exaggeratedly to the pile of melons.

“I say that’s a great idea, Dan!” Gavin replied. And so they set right to work, Gavin forcing himself to not think about the pretty boy in the crowd most likely looking at him right now and focused on helping Dan. They had a short, clear wall to guard the audience from watermelon shrapnel as it exploded into bits and was replayed at thousands of frames per second behind them on the giant screen.

The most of the show continued like that, and about an hour and a half in the stage was strewn with fruit bits, paint, mousetraps, water, and other various objects and substances. A crew had already begun working on cleaning up parts of it when Gavin and Dan began walking into the aisles, inviting swarms of fangirls to come near them.

“So, as many of you may know, Gavin created the Slow Mo Guys in 2010. So we’ve been together for a while now making these videos, and I believe, if I’m correct, we’re in the top 100 most subscribed to channels on Youtube.”

“Top 50 actually, Dan.”

“Top 50? Isn’t that so impressive? But here’s the thing Gavin. While you have the brainstorms, and I take the pain, there’s a key element to our success here in this business of slow motion I think we’re missing.”

“And what do you think that might be, Dan?” asked Gavin.

“Well, I think that we couldn’t be here, priding ourselves on being in the top 50 most subscribed to channels if it weren’t for our subscribers!” Dan gestured to the people in the audience, who applauded and hollered accordingly.

“You’re right Dan!” said Gavin, “But how might we thank our lovely subscribers?” Gavin gestured to his side of the crowd, waving his arms up as if to signal them to cheer louder than Dan’s side had.

“Well, Gav, are you familiar with our video, Soggy Flappy Faces in Slow Motion?” Dan asked, egging on his side of the assembly again.

“I am very familiar with it.” Gavin fakes a gasp, “Dan, are you suggesting that we should pick members from our audience today to make a soggy flappy face to show in slow motion?” Gavin won. His side went berserk.

“What? i was just gonna say-” Dan began a joke but the audience was too excited now.

“Okay, okay, okay, everyone calm down.” A hush went over the people. It was then Gavin met eyes with his stranger again, and he wished he could just pick him out of the crowd right then and there, but it had to be random.

“Everyone get out your phone, right now,” Dan said, taking out his own phone as an example and Gavin followed suit.

“Send a tweet out to us and use the hashtag #SloMoGuysParis and in a moment or so, our random generator will pick seven of you to come to soggy flappy faces with Dan and I!” Gavin announced and the audience seemed as they had been all night.

Gavin and then Dan returned to the stage and Gavin found himself looking for the unknown boy again, to see if he was tweeting, if there was any chance, but he couldn’t find him again. He was disoriented from this side of the stage.

As promised, within moments, a tweet appeared on the screen behind the boys reading: “@Jaime_Slo_Mo: Dan’s Flappy Face my FAVE!! Thanks you so much for coming to Paris! #SloMoGuysParis” A screaming could suddenly be heard as a girl around seventeen moved from her seat in the house towards the stage.

“Hi there! What’s your name?” Gavin asked her cheerfully.

“Je m’appelle Kylie,” she said, then repeating herself in English, “ My name is Kylie!” Her voice was high-pitched and squeaky, as if she was so excited she could barely stand it.

“Well, Kylie, we’re gonna have you look at that camera right over there,” Dan pointed, “And do your best soggy flappy face you can muster. Okay?” Kylie nodded.

“Ready?” Gavin asked. Kylie and Dan nodded. The three of them made their faces at the camera while the showgoers cheered them on. Within seconds, the video was being played back to the big screen for everyone to see.

“Thank you so much Kylie!” Gavin said, and both Slow Mo Guys gave her high fives as she went back to her seat. They then had the rest of the fans whose tweets had been randomly selected come up and do their best soggy flappy face. Much to Gavin’s dismay, none of the aforementioned were his anonymous friend from the crowd.

“We do have,” Gavin started, “Just one more thing for you all.” He gave a really corny grin, just on the side of his mouth. Before he could even finish his statement, the crowd erupted into noise.

Behind him, crew members were bringing out a bouncing, full, six foot water balloon, not unlike the one used in the most popular Slow Mo Guys video. Gavin and Dan sat on it and waited for the audience to settle. Gavin felt immensely happy; he had never felt this way in his life, and he doubted he would again, so he savored it. He sat and drank it all in, remembering to remember.

“I just want you all to leave this show knowing that we love you, and we love making videos for you, and to always remember that if life is going too fast, spend some time in the Slow Mo Zone.”

“You know I think that may be the corniest thing you’ve ever said in that bit,” Gavin told Dan. Dan only shrugged.

“Yeah well, you can’t win ’em all,” Dan said, “And yes I did just come up with that on the spot,” he said to the audience.

“Alright so are we gonna do this or what?”

“Let’s do it!”

And so they jumped onto the water balloon together, and Gavin caught sight of his stanger one last time and gave him a huge smile and winked. Yes, winked. And that was the last thing he saw before water everywhere.

“We love you and GOODNIGHT!” Dan called as the last slow motion video played and they left the stage with music pumping from every speaker to ever exist, Gavin thought.

And the only thing, from the entire night, he could think to think of, was his stranger. And those cutting brown eyes and angry eyebrows and thick curly hair. This was who he thought of as he headed to his dressing room.


	3. Chapter 3

When the show was over, Michael had a dumb grin on his face. He had had so much fun. Watching Slo Mo Guys videos on Youtube and watching them be performed in real time and then rewatched in slow motion were two entirely different things, contrary to what Michael had thought when he first came in.

What really struck Michael, though, was the one of them, Gavin, who he had definitely made eye contact with a few times. It made his entire being light up with a certain electricity he couldn’t exactly name, each time more than the last. And he was gorgeous. Very British, obviously, if his accent wasn’t enough, with his tall, thin frame and long legs he obviously didn’t know what to do with. Not to mention his deep emerald eyes and hair that looked as if he’d just had the best sex in his entire life. (Honestly, Michael wouldn’t be surprised if he had.) Michael rolled his eyes at himself, swooning like one of the fangirls he had just spent over an hour with. Maybe it’s contagious, he thought worriedly.

It took Michael forever to get out of there, considering he was so close to the actual stage and waited what felt like an hour to get a T-shirt. Yes, it was stupid, but he wanted something to remember Paris by and to prove to others, and maybe himself, that he did actually go to Paris for a reason. Even if that reason wasn’t exactly to go to the Slow Mo Guys World Tour.

After finally getting out of the heated auditorium, the cool Paris night air felt like relief. It was still raining, Michael noted as he tried to signal cab after cab. Finally, one stopped, and he climbed in gratefully and told the driver he was headed to Le Grand Cheval Hotel. He felt like such a fat cat every time he got to say that, because Le Grand Cheval was a big deal to stay at in Paris. Michael decided about three days prior that it was worth it to stay there for a few days just to say he did. He was hesitant to actually stay there, thinking it wasn’t worth the hype, but after spending his first night, he didn’t regret it at all. Nobody was exaggerating; it was a damn nice hotel.

Outside was chilly and crisp, but the inside of the cab was warm and humming, making Michael extremely drowsy after the excitement of the show. He found himself fighting off sleep as the streets of Paris flew by his vision. In about twenty minutes he was at his hotel, perfectly contented with the thought that he had the most comfortable suite waiting for him just four floors up.

Michael gathered his things, paid the cab driver, and moved quickly into Le Grand Cheval. He noticed a lot of people in the lobby, which seemed normal because it was only just past ten and there were actually a lot of things one could do around the hotel at ten o’clock. Michael, however, headed straight for the elevators, which typically moved slow as shit, which is why he was disappointed to see that none were currently at the lobby, until one at the end caught his eye that was closing. He ran down.

“Hold up!” He called out. Someone stopped the door.

“Thanks, -” He was cut short. As Michael stepped inside the elevator, his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Before him stood The Slow Mo Guys, the very two he had seen before him on a stage possibly one hour before. Their hair was still a little wet from the water balloon stunt at the end, and they had changed clothes, but it was unmistakably them.

“I, uh., you guys are, I was… at…” Michael, frustrated and at a loss for words, simply held up the shirt he had bought.

“That’s so cool, mate!” Said the one, Dan, that Michael hadn’t paid all that much attention to. Michael focused mostly on him, which he realized was probably rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Gavin. The intense attraction, the tingles of electricity were now blazing at a million watts and he was worried if he looked, he might short out.

“D’you think you guys could, y’know, sign it? I mean I was gonna wear it, but it would be so much cooler if it was signed.” His face was red. he felt like a geek. It wasn’t being in the presence of famous Youtubers - he was practically one himself. It was something about Gavin driving him absolutely crazy.

He stole a look. His heart skipped a beat. Gavin was looking at him with such an intensity he thought he was going to die. He looked astounded that Michael was there. But why? Did he recognize him? Surely not- there were hundreds of people there, and Michael had not interacted with Gavin at all but for the few times they made eye contact. Yet Gavin looked puzzled and intrigued as Michael was.

Say something, say something, say something, Michael thought. Enough looking like a freak.

“You okay? You kinda took a nasty fall there.” Gavin’s face went back to normal, but he still had an intensity about him.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve fallen like that loads of times,” he said. “I banged my knee, that’s all.” And with that, Michael suddenly felt relaxed and comfortable. The nearly magnetic draw towards Gavin remained, but he felt less anxious about it.

“I remember I broke my wrist in second grade that way,” Michael said, “Fell out of a tree.” Gavin laughed at this, seeming very interested in what Michael had to say.

“Yeah? I’m surprised I haven’t broken more than I have. Most of the time I just end up with nasty bruises.”

“Most of the time, I end up broken,” Dan interjected as he signed Michael’s shirt, handing it to Gavin to sign as well. Michael and Gavin both laughed. As Gavin signed it, the elevator doors pinged, signaling that their time was done.

“You’re on the fifth floor too?” Michael asked, realizing in his surprise he had forgotten to push the button for his floor.

“Sure are!” Said Gavin, “Isn’t that odd?”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, reluctantly exiting the elevator. “Well, you guys put on a great show tonight, it was, uh, nice talking to you,” he said. Every nerve in his body was screaming to not move any further from Gavin, but he turned to leave anyways. The Slow Mo Guys headed for the other direction.

As Michael was turning to look back remorsefully one more time, he heard Gavin speak again.

“Wait!” He exclaimed, “I didn’t catch your name!”

“Michael. And you’re Gavin.” Gavin looked confused only for a moment that Michael knew his name.

“Michael,” Gavin started, trying out the name. Michael would never admit how much he loved the way it rolled off of Gavin's tongue, the way it sounded like ‘Micool’. “Michael, do you want to go get a drink at the bar with me?”

Michael tried to hide his excitement, but the magnet in the pit of his stomach was drawing him towards Gavin. His mouth moved faster than his mind as he tried to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” he blurted, perhaps a little more eagerly than he had meant to. His face felt hot again, but he didn’t feel anxious. Even though he had only just met Gavin, after Michael having watched him on a stage for a few hours, he felt comfortable around him.

“Alright, let’s go then!” Gavin and Michael both moved back towards the elevator, which was still sitting open for some reason, and Gavin pushed the button to take them to the ground floor again.

“So, a tree, hmm?” Gavin raised his eyebrow and smirked as they were on their way back down. A feeling somewhat akin to melting came over Michael.

“I was trying to get an apple out of it for a girl I liked.” Michael laughed, “The best part is, it wasn’t even an apple tree! It was a fucking oak tree!” This sent Gavin into a series of squeaks that was one of the strangest laughs Michael had ever heard.

“I’m serious!” Michael wheezed after a minute because he was laughing at Gavin’s laugh on top of the ridiculousness of it. The elevator opened and the two boys stepped out, making their way to the bar. Gavin walked closely to Michael so that their shoulders occasionally brushed. The scent of chocolate and cigarette smoke hung in the air

“I used to love climbing trees,” said Gavin. “We had one in our backyard and I used to climb it and shout things at the neighbors.”

“You did not!”

“I did! I also used to wear a pilot’s hat and throw uncooked pasta at people who walked by. I was a weird kid.”

By the time they got to the bar, Michael was laughing so hard his stomach hurt. They each ordered a beer as they sat down.

“Why uncooked pasta?” Michael asked after a moment. All he could think was that he probably just would have thrown rocks or something he found in the yard. He looked at Gavin, trying to hide his admiration, but the smile shined in his eyes.

“I don’t even know. I guess I thought pasta had some magical powers or something. I think I remember telling them they would turn into lasagna if they touched tomatoes in the next hour.”

Michael was bent over with silent laughter. When he stood up straight again, his face was red and he was wiping tears of elation from his eyes. Over time, the high-frequency energy of the bar dimmed. Their own drinks were forgotten long ago in favor of each other’s conversion. He looked at Gavin with his head slightly cocked. The corners of his mouth twitched and the only thing he could think was that Gavin was the perfect type of person to perform on stage. He was very charismatic and had a way with words that made him feel both smarter and dumber than you. It was comforting.

“What?” Gavin asked after a moment, in his accent that made it sound like ‘wot.’

“Nothing,” Michael smiled to himself, “you’re just like the best person to talk to, I think. Talking to you is the best.”

“Thanks, Michael.” Gavin beamed at this. Then he jumped into his next subject. Gavin, it seemed, deteriorated into a state of asking very complex would-you-rather questions at around (Michael checked his watch) 1:00 am.

“If you could never play any new games that came out but be able to infinitely explore one game, or you could play new games, but you’ll never master them or get very far into the storyline, which one would you choose?” Gavin leaned in closer to Michael, watching his face as he mentally chewed on this.

“Hmm, so like endless GTA 5 or only barely being able to start anything…” Michael pondered. “Probably the second one. Cause imagine the shit that’ll be in GTA 6!”

Gavin laughed at this. “Me too, I get bored with games too easily. Plus it would bloody suck to not be able to experience new games!”

“It would bloody suck!” Michael parroted Gavin’s accent. This time it was Gavin who grew quiet, observing the shorter, curly-haired man. Michael stopped, suddenly concerned he had offended the Brit. A bartender came by and told them the bar would only be open for another half-hour. Looking around, Michael noticed they were the only two still there so late.

“Michael?” Gavin asked. Michael felt something fluttery when Gavin said his name. They were very physically close now, far closer than they had been when they first sat down.

“Yes?” Michael bit his bottom lip, unsure of what Gavin was about to say, afraid so say anything, to break the silence, to end this moment they were having.

“Would you rather go back to your suite, and sleep, or come back with me to mine and do something a whole lot more interesting?” Gavin smirked at Michael even as the words came out. It took Michael a moment to register.

Gavin took it as a yes as Michael threw his arms around the Brit and kissed him passionately. He was surprised at first, then returned the shorter boy’s kiss, placing his hand on the small of Michael’s back. When they both came up for air, Michael’s freckles were tinted red.

“We should, er, probably go then.” Gavin suggested and Michael nodded in agreement. Gavin took Michael’s hand and they did their best not to run to the elevators.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically the PG-13 sex scene. You won't miss any plot if you chose to skip it.

It was all Michael and Gavin could do to keep their hands off of each other during the walk to the elevator. Thankfully enough, it’s not typical practice for there to be many people roaming a fancy hotel at one in the morning, so their elevator was vacant. Their lips crashed together aggressively as soon as the elevator doors closed. The ride was short, and then they kissed down the hall, to Gavin’s room, where Gavin fumbled with the key until the door opened and they tumbled inside, still attached in as many ways as possible. Michael’s hip glued to Gavin’s, Gavin’s fingers tracing the back of Michael’s neck, grasping his hat and throwing it off feverishly to run his fingers through the iconic auburn curls.

They paused in the doorway, Gavin resting his arm above Michael’s head and leaning down slightly to kiss him. Gavin’s lips moved long and slow, like he had kissed many before but Michael was the only one he had ever wanted to kiss. Michael moved his arms around Gavin’s waist and tugged him closer. Gavin gave a small grunt of approval, and Michael could feel himself smiling against Gavin’s warm, inviting lips.

Michael barely had time to notice how much nicer Gavin’s suite was than his simple second-floor room, but it would have been hard to miss as Gavin pulled him along. Everything here was rich and luxurious, it was like Gavin was French Royalty. He had not only a bathroom and a bed, but a living room, balcony area, and full kitchen. Gavin threw himself onto the couch and pulled Michael by his shirt as an invitation to follow. Michael sat on Gavin’s lap, kissing his face eagerly.

Michael is a very singularly-minded person, and in that moment he focused only on Gavin; where Gavin was touching him, how Gavin tasted, the sensation of Gavin’s fingers dragging across his scalp. It was as if Gavin was this fucking star right in front of him. He was so beautiful it hurt to look, but he also couldn’t look away. Gavin had completely encompassed Michael’s current every thought. And he had no complaints.

Before Michael knew what was going on, Gavin had shifted so he was now straddling Michael’s lap, kissing every part of Michael he could get his mouth on. His hands wove themselves into Michael’s shirt, pulling him closer. First, his lips traced Michael’s jawline softly, then he kissed his neck and throat. Soon he was sucking on Michael’s collarbone, emitting soft noises from the American. He bit him softly and the boy squirmed from under him.

Gavin then moved to shift his weight, but apparently did so overzealously because when Michael opened his eyes in protest against the sudden absence of Gavin’s lips, he saw only a flash of Gavin’s startled face as he fell off the sofa. Unfortunately, Gavin’s hands were still clutching Michael’s shirt, so Michael went toppling down with him. A clusterfuck of hands and legs tumbled to the floor, extremely gracefully, Michael thought. Michael looked at Gavin, now on the floor, with slight panic, considering he looked as if the wind had just been knocked from his chest.

“You alright?” Michael asked, biting his bottom lip slightly to keep from laughing. Gavin nodded, gasping for air. Michael barely allowed him this before he began eagerly kissing him again, Gavin laughing between kisses. Gavin, upon realizing his hand was still clutching a fistful of Michael’s shirt, used this to his advantage as an excuse to take it off. He twisted it over Michael’s head, ignoring the grunt of disapproval he received when their lips parted

Gavin rolled the two of them over so he would be on top again. He threw his own shirt off and Michael, fascinated, traced patterns on Gavin’s skin where his muscles curved or where his ribs protruded slightly. Gavin had his palms against the floor for better balance s he kissed every inch of Michael’s skin he could find. And he kissed with a passion, an art, the kind that made Michael feel things, filled him with an animalistic desire.

_Gavin tastes like watermelon and beer_ , Michael decided somewhere along the path from Gavin’s lips to the convexes and concaves of his hip. Everywhere his fingertips danced across Michael’s skin it felt like tiny stars exploding. Everywhere Michael touched Gavin, it was like ribbons of electricity running down his spine. Michael turned them over once again and pinned Gavin to the ground. He bit Gavin’s bottom lip and heard the faintest gasp escape the Brit’s lips. Gavin reaches his hands up to tug on a strand or two of Michael’s curly auburn hair. They go next to the zipper of Michael’s pants, the look in Gavin’s eyes is asking, no, pleading for permission. And Michael gives it willingly, wanting it just as bad as Gavin. When Gavin’s hands brush his hips, he shivers without meaning to. Gavin smirks and rolls onto Michael, kissing his hip where the pelvic bone protrudes. Michael squirming beneath him only turns him on more. He pulls away from Michael for a moment and Michael whines in protest against the cold air that replaces the spot where Gavin was. Gavin tugs off his own jeans and straddles Michael’s lap again.

And then they’re crashing together, Michael’s sitting up now and his arms pulling Gavin as close as he can possibly be, on his lap. And Gavin’s rocking back and forth on his lap as he kisses his face and his neck and everywhere he can reach and Michael throws his head back and bite his lips to suppress a moan, only hoping that Gavin won’t see this. However he does, and so he pulls Michael’s lips to his, kissing him as if its the last time he’ll ever get to kiss anyone. When he finally pulls away, gasping for air, he winks at Michael.

“Bed?” he asked, panting and grinning, his face read from heat and who-knows-what else. Michael nodded his agreement.

“Fuck yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

Michael wakes up with sunlight streaming directly into his face, naked and tangled in the sheets and Gavin’s limbs. If he thought talking with Gavin was the best, he was wrong, because sex with Gavin was better. He squints at first, muttering swear words under his breath, trying not to wake the other man as he shifts. He then catches a glimpse of the alarm clock, a glaring red 8:52. The panic starts in his mind, seeping slowly to his muscles as his entire body is set alert as he realizes he’s fucked. Then, he moves swiftly, with less regard for the other person still sleeping.

“Shit,” he says, “shitshitshit.” He moves to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes along the way. Then, he’s throwing them on silently, cursing himself for being so stupid, not setting an alarm on his phone at least. His train leaves at 10:30. He wanted to be there at nine. He glances at his phone in his pocket. 8:57. Ha. Yes, sure he’ll get there in the next three minutes.

So this is how Michael leaves Paris, the city of love. The walk of shame to the train station. Thinking about leaving Gavin brings a sharp feeling of something to Michael’s chest, but he can’t quite put it in words. He shakes it off, electing instead to ignore it as he hurries along. He’s still grumbling about being an idiot as he starts to leave, but he notices something different. He turns to see he’s awoken his sleeping partner.

Michael stops in his tracks. Gavin is sitting up, draped in the silk sheers, squinting his beautiful green eyes at Michael. His hair was still messy from the events of last night, stuck up in all directions and turned golden by the same light that first woke Michael.

“Micool?” He says, his voice raspy and groggy, barely above a whisper and more accented than normal. It’s one word, and yet, it sounds so hurt, as if someone has just kicked him in the chest. And here Michael his, standing in front of him, dressed and about to leave, his heart breaking in two. Michael wished with all his heart he could save just this moment, this beautiful image of this beautiful boy, and live in it, here. He wished he could say “fuck it” to his train and catch one next week, or next month. But he can’t.

“Where are you going?” Gavin asks. It takes Michael a moment to find words, as Gavin has once again left him breathless.

“I… Um…” he stopped himself. “My train leaves in an hour. I have to go,” he said apologetically.

“Not so fast!” Gavin said, suddenly very awake. He jumped out of bed and started putting his own clothes on. “Let me take you to the train station at least. Where’s your room?” Michael wasn’t sure why, but his chest felt a little lighter just hearing this. At least he wouldn’t be leaving the city of love entirely alone. He smiled.

“519,” he told Gavin, “I have to go get my stuff. It will only take me a second. We should meet in the lobby.” Thankfully, he had packed his suitcase before leaving the previous day.

“Sweet. I’ll get coffee and meet you there in five,” Gavin said with an air of finality, as if nothing Michael said could change his mind. And so Michael left.

Michael all but ran to his room, quickly checked to make sure he had all his stuff, and tugged his large suitcase out of the room, making his way back down to the lobby. He smiled, in spite of himself, as he reached the elevators, thinking of the last time he was in these elevators. The way Gavin kissed him so fiercely, the way Gavin’s lips tasted. He was still smiling as he pushed the button for “Ground Floor" and the elevator moved downwards. Gavin, as promised, was waiting with coffee as Michael checked himself out of the luxurious hotel.

“Cab’s waiting out front.” Gavin smiled as he handed Michael his coffee, which Michael graciously accepted, checking his phone again. 9:13. 27% battery. It was going to be a long day. Literally, considering he was headed back to a time zone where it was only 2:13 AM.

“Why are you doing this?” Michael asked Gavin as they got in, his luggage secure. He realized it came out rather rude, ruder than he meant it at least, but Gavin didn’t seem to notice.

“Because I like you, you twit,” Gavin said in response but this didn’t answer Michael’s question whatsoever. “And I’m trying to get at least a fraction of a goodbye, even though my heart is breaking.”

Michael frowned as he thought about this. Much of the ride to the train station was quiet. He was trying to comprehend his feelings. It wasn’t like he was Gavin’s boyfriend or anything. He hadn’t asked Gavin to come. In fact, he was trying to avoid heartbreak the way Gavin seemed to be perpetuating it. Wasn’t Gavin just prolonging the inevitable? How was it fair to meet this perfect, amazingly good-looking, talented, famous person and then have to say goodbye to them immediately after sleeping with them? That was Michael’s big love story? How unfair. Despite this, he was still happier to have Gavin here than he would have been otherwise.

Michael resorts to looking out of the window. The sky is gray, on the brink of another storm it seems, and he can’t help but relate. As they approach the train station, Gavin takes Michael’s hand tentatively. Michael turns and smiles softly to communicate that this is alright. Besides, Gavin’s hand was warm and soft and the only thing slightly comforting at the time.

Before Michael could protest, Gavin handed the cab driver a stack of Euros to pay and tugged Michael out of the car, grabbing his bag for him . Immediately, Michael was struck with the contrasting environment. The dull, quiet, warm interior of the cab was replaced with a high traffic area, bustling with conversing people and all sorts of sounds, even outside the station and brisk Paris winds. Michael reached for his beanie and realized he must have thrown it in his bag in the morning frenzy. Disappointed, he held onto Gavin for warmth instead.

“I already have my ticket, thank fucking Christ,” Michael said, “I bought it online.” It was now 9:48. Michael had less than an hour left before his train took off. He was flying out of London back to Texas in a matter of hours.

Neither man spoke much as Gavin helped direct Michael to where he needed to go. The busy, loud, high-ceilinged train station seemed muffled by the bubble he and Michael had created. They rushed from one task to another; Michael went through security and Gavin followed him willingly. They had each of their passports checked and Michael occasionally gave Gavin a look that seemed to question whether or not he was regretting this. He wasn’t.

It was 10:13 when they were done. They had twelve minutes until Michael had to leave. He turned to Gavin, his train waiting impatiently behind him. He was unsure of what to say; he had so many words and yet no way to string them together. So much to say and not nearly enough time to say it in. He just needed to leave, to get away from Gavin, away from that magnetic feeling that Gavin gave him, away from Gavin’s perfect company and conversation. He needed to leave and forget about Gavin. He couldn’t stick around any more. He turned away, pretending to ignore the hurt of Gavin’s previously hopeful face. Michael opened his mouth to speak.

“Gav, I… I have to go.” Those were the only words he could choke out. After the past twenty four hours, it was hard to imagine what it would be like to turn away from this place and try to forget about Gavin, to pretend that this didn’t matter, but he had to try. Gavin bit his lip as he watched the American walk away, at the last minute deciding it couldn’t end like this.

“Micool, wait!” He said, running towards the shorter man who was just about to get on the train. Michael turned around, his face hot from the scene Gavin was making and gritted his teeth, openly annoyed at the theatrics. Gavin didn’t seem to notice, though, and if he did he didn’t care.

“Take my number, at least” Gavin said, pulling a scrap piece of paper from his wallet that he had already written his phone number on. He thrust it at Michael. “Call me sometime. We can talk.” He chewed his bottom lip softly, unsure of how Michael would respond.

“Oh. Alright” Michael said after a moment, still staring at the piece of paper. He didn’t put it in his pocket, just held it in his hand still. He was unsure what to think. He didn’t want to put it away just yet, it was his way of holding onto this last moment, a piece of Gavin for him to keep. He looked at it for a moment more, then met Gavin’s eyes, and then, finally, turned and boarded his train.

He still felt breathless a moment later, when he was finally in his seat, staring at the ten digits on the piece of paper he was still holding. They were written in shitty ballpoint pen on the shitty paper that all hotels provide you a little pad of; the nicest gift they can give you in return for you overpaying for somewhere to half-sleep, half-listen to people stomp around the floor above is a shitty little pad of maybe ten pieces of paper and a pen with their logo on it. He wondered what it meant that Gavin probably wrote his phone number down before leaving the hotel room but only gave it to him at the last minute. Did he want Michael to keep in contact with him? He wasn’t sure. This what what he wondered as he drifted off to sleep.

Michael was still thinking this as he was running through the motions at the airport. In fact, he was in the waiting area for his flight when he felt his phone buzz. His immediate thought went to Gavin, but he realized immediately that that was not possible. He thought next it was maybe his calendar alert for leaving, but he thought he set it earlier than that. When it continued to buzz he hurried to get it out, realizing it was probably a phone call.

What came next, he couldn’t have prepared himself for. A call from someone he was not expecting, nor waiting for. A call from someone he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to. A call from someone that he had managed to forget ever since he had first laid eyes on Gavin. Until now.

His phone screen read: Call from Lindsay.


	6. Chapter 6

Michael wasn’t sure how to think. The train started and he felt dizzy. His mouth was dry. His hands were shaky. He wasn’t hopeful, or longing, he was just nervous. Unsure. He picked up. Thank goodness the train was fairly empty on a Tuesday.

“Hello?” He asked. His voice came out stronger than it felt.

“Hey!” Her bubbly, light voice floated effortlessly over the phone.

“Um, you know I’m still in Paris right?” Michael looked around to see if there were any snobby French people judging him. A woman with a bad perm and a small dog glanced at him with disdain, but he ignored her and turned back around.

“Yeah, sorry for the long distance call. I was just thinking that I should probably call sometime, you know?”

“Umm, no, actually.”

“Oh, Michael. Just promise me we can talk again, okay? Will you call me when you get back to the states?”

“Sure,” Michael said, only half-sure this conversation was actually happening. He was starting to remember the reason he’d come to France in the first place.

“Cool! Alright, how about we have lunch, maybe tomorrow or Wednesday?”

“Um, Yeah.” Michael said, still tired from the five-ish hours of sleep and then some on the train. Between everything that had happened, his head felt very fuzzy. “Hey, Linds, what time is it there?” He asked, checking his own clock.

“Seven-ish…” She trailed off, obviously turning to look at the clock. She must be sitting at the bar in her apartment, elbows on the counter, drinking her coffee like she does every morning. She has to have someone to talk to when she drinks her coffee. Today it’s Michael. She also seemed to have brushed off the old nickname he used for her. Granted, he used it before they dated, too, but it was still significant. “Yeah. 7:18. What about there.”

Why would it be him she talks to? Her boyfriend must not have spent the night last night. Maybe she was just thinking about him. How funny, he thought, that he had been thinking about her for two weeks, and in the past day he managed to forget her, she finally remembered he existed.

“Uh, it’s gotta be 2:18 here, then. My flight leaves at three, I think.” He said. He wasn’t really in the mood for conversation, especially with Lindsay. Which was odd, because he felt like any day over the past several months he would have jumped at the fact that Lindsay called him. For the first month of their break up, he used to wish for nothing more than a simple call. And now he was unsure. Now he thought he just maybe wanted his old relationship with Lindsay back. To just be friends.

“Okay, well I’ll let you go because you’ll probably be boarding soon, right? But lunch though. Just let me know.”

“Yeah I - I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. Bye Michael.” Her voice sounded briefly regretful, but then it had it’s usual bubbly cheer.

“Bye,” He said, hurriedly hanging up. He wasn’t sure why, but talking to Lindsay seemed like a bad thing to do right now. It also felt… different. Like something had finally shifted after all this time he had spent trying to get over her. He couldn’t decide what it was. Maybe Paris had actually worked. Or maybe he was just tired.

A hop, skip, and a plane later, he was back home in Texas. And while it was 2AM Paris time, it was only 7PM Austin time, and Michael was going to have to get over his jet lag one way or another, so he opted to stay up for as long as he could, despite the exhaustion dragging him down with every step.

Before he knew it, the slip of paper was out once again and he found himself intensely focused on it, as if it could keep him awake, and it wasn’t doing a bad job. He must have memorized the digits now from staring at it. He still couldn’t decide what it meant, and he kept going over and over in his mind whether or not to call. He calculated the time in Paris right now, and then realized that Gavin, too, was leaving Paris soon, continuing his tour, and considered looking up the tour dates, but realized he didn’t have the energy. The only thing he could think to do was sit and stare and try to preserve every perfect memory of Gavin…

He must have dozed off, because he woke about an hour later to the mundane sounds of his apartment. He pulled himself up off of the barstool in his kitchen, dragged himself down the hall and got into bed, paper firmly clothed in his hand. Right before actually falling asleep again, he set it on his nightstand, not wanting to lose it. Then, before he knew it, he was out.

* * *

In a city halfway across the world, Gavin was feeling almost the exact same. When Dan found out what had happened with Michael, he slapped Gavin on the back proudly, congratulating him. Gavin didn’t have the heart to tell him he was probably no better off now. He was having a hard time sleeping and eating, and he found himself thinking about Michael call the first time. The sharpness of his jaw, or the tiny freckles of his face, or - _oh god_ \- his hair. Gavin could touch that hair forever.

But perhaps Gavin’s favorite thing was the way Michael said his name in his thick American accent. He liked the way he whispered it after Gavin had first introduced himself. He loved the way he’d said it confidently at the bar like they were old friends. He liked the way Michael was quick to deal out nicknames: Gavino, Gav, Gavvy. It made Gavin’s heart flutter. And he thought he’d melt into a puddle when the american moaned his name. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced. And now, he wanted nothing more than to hear it once more, when he picked up the phone.

Speaking of picking up the phone, Gavin was beginning to feel increasingly pathetic. He’d answer for any unknown number whatsoever. After about the sixth telemarketer, he began to feel a bit dumb, too. Who expects a call from a one night stand? A one night stand in _Paris_ , mind you, but a one night stand nonetheless. He didn’t know why he even thought to give Michael his number. He was obviously a tourist. He lived in the States. Gavin knew very little about his home. He realized with a start, that he didn’t even know if Michael had a girlfriend or a boyfriend for Christ’s sake! He tried to shake the thought from his head. Who would come to the City of Love without that person? In fact, why was Michael alone?

Gavin wished he had a way to answer these questions. He wished he’d thought to ask them when Michael was still here. He had simply been left at the station. looking back, Michael was growing increasingly mysterious to him. Partly he wondered if  Michael were even real. Surely he must have been, because Dan saw him too. Besides Gavin could never have such strong feelings for someone he’d only imagined.

What had he expected to come of it anyways? Giving Michael his number. He scoffed at his own stupidity. Michael lived in the states, and Gavin in England. The whole idea was silly. He was a silly dreamer, always had been and always would be. He tried to ignore his feelings, to brush them off. He’d forget about Michael soon enough, he thought. But the worry crept back in. Why had he felt so attracted to Michael if there wasn’t _something_ there?

Gavin groaned and collapsed back into the chair he was sitting in. Dan who was on the other side of the room, turned to check on him.

“You okay, B?”

“I’m hopeless,” Gavin whined, voice oozing with self-pity. Dan could sense that what Gavin was feeling was more than one-night-stand-feelings, but he was pretending that couldn’t be possible, for Gavin’s sake.

“Well, hopeless has a show in twenty, so he might want to clean himself up a little,” Dan teased. Gavin forced a laugh as well.

“Sounds good, B, I’ll work on that.” He was already cleaned and primped of course, but he knew what Dan meant. He’d be no fun towards the audience if he was moping like a heartbroken puppy.

Dan was Gavin’s best friend. And he was the best friend that Gavin could ask for. He knew how to sense what Gavin was feeling and typically knew exactly what to say to make him feel better. Gavin’s mind wandered back to Michael, tumbling into the thoughts of him like a toddler falling into a parents arms after walking for the first time. Would Michael be like that? Had he been? He had certainly been exactly what Gavin needed exactly when he needed it. But now Gavin still needed him and he was gone…

Gavin shook his head, physically batting away the thoughts and standing up abruptly. A stage manager came in to inform them that the show would be starting shortly. Gavin smiled and confirmed that was good. He started getting his bubbly, bouncy stage energy as Dan stood up and they headed that way. He bounced a little as the crowd cheered when their announcer went out. Butterflies took light when the lights went out and the whole theatre went silent. Pushing Michael out of his thoughts, he stepped onto the stage.

“Welcome to the Slow Mo Guys World Tour!” he said, and the teens in the stand went wild. And that was that.

Until the lights came up and he found himself searching for a particular pair of copper eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey Michael.”

Lindsay’s voice rang out clear across the diner, striking a place in Michael’s heart he had forgotten existed. It was different now, though something had shifted. It was different, less desperate. He still felt the need for a relationship with her, but now he seemed to miss her as being his close friend rather than his girlfriend.

He made his way to her table, taking off his coat and sliding into the seat across from her. She looked good, happy. Maybe she had lost some weight. Michael was constantly paranoid Lindsay would find someone who told her to lose weight. _She’s perfect_ , he used to think, _and why would you want to change anything about her?_

Now he knew she wasn’t perfect. He could see her in all her beauty and kindness and see right through her to her flaws as well. He could see the way she’d laugh when she was mad, only it was more high pitched than her usual laugh. Or how she’d bottle every negative emotion and then explode on the nearest person when it got to be too much. He saw those things now, and he felt like he knew her better for it.

“Hey Linds,” he finally replied, flashing her a weak smile. He wasn’t sure why it was so forced. Perhaps it was simply being here, seeing her again. It didn’t feel like that, though.

The diner around them bustled. It was still early in the day, so the  smelled of coffee and syrup still hung in the air. There weren’t many people there, but the room still had a fast-paced feeling all the same. A waitress approached them and asked what they’d like. Both asked for only coffee. They could have ordered for each other, honestly. Then, Lindsay began to speak again.

“How are you?” she asked timidly, testing the waters with Michael. She was unsure what to expect. Reasonably, considering the last time Michael had seen her he’s still been head over heels in love with her. Giddy just for her attention. Hoping to make her fall in love again. Now he was a tired kind of quiet. He was full of thought, mind still foggy from Paris. He tried to force himself to remember that feeling for Lindsay.

“I’m alright,” he said cryptically, unsure of how to truthfully answer. He took a sip of coffee.

“That’s good,” Lindsay continued, not one for awkward silences, “I’m doing well. I met someone. He’s really nice.”

“I saw on Facebook,” Michael replied shortly, again trying to feel bitter, jealous, hatred. The only emotion that bubbled up was sadness. He felt sad. Without meaning to, he wondered if Lindsay’s new guy made her feel the way Gavin made Michael feel. He shook his head at himself, frown deepening.

“Look Michael,” Lindsay started after seeing the look on his face. The general sweetness from her voice disappeared. “You have to stop pining over me.”

“I’m not pining-”

“We tried to make it work and it didn’t. End of story.”

“ _We tried to make it work?_ Lindsay, you just stopped talking to me all of a sudden and-”

“Because it wasn’t working!”

“What wasn’t working?”

“It!”

“What?”

“Nothing! Everything! Ugh! I don’t know.” She sounded ticked off now. I just called you here so I could tell you to drop it because I met somebody and I want to be able to go back to being friends without you acting like this love stricken-”

“I met somebody too!” Michael practically shouted. The diner fell silent. Really, there was a brief hush, a pause in conversation, but the silence lasted longer at Michael and Lindsay’s table than anywhere else. He stared at her, making fierce eye contact.

Michael’s words hung there in the air. He had brought up Gavin. he had brought up Gavin to _Lindsay_. He hadn’t meant to bring him up. What had he meant by that? Gavin wasn’t _somebody_. He was a one night stand. Someone to sleep with so he'd get over Lindsay. And now he had mentioned him to Lindsay, and her face was registering what he had just said. Her hostility melted away into a grin.

“You did?” She asked, “Who?!”

And then suddenly, she was Lindsay again. Michael’s Lindsay. His friend. He didn’t think he’d ever get that back and now here he was. It was like a weight had lifted off his chest; he was able to breathe again. He had now piqued her curiosity, and she was rapidly firing questions.

“What’s her name?”

“His.”

“His? His! What’s his name?”

“It’s not important, Linds.”

“It is important!” She prodded, “Like, the guy I’m seeing now, his name is Dylan.”

“Lindsay this is different. I met him in Paris.”

“Okay, so what?”

“So, it’s nothing.”

“How is it nothing just because you met in Paris?

“I don’t know!”

“Well, you brought it up!”

“Well I take it back now.”

“Michael,” she whined, “you can’t take it baaaaack.”

“It was nothing okay?” Michael barked. Once again, the conversation came to an abrupt halt and tension hung in the air. “It was a one night stand okay? I only said it so you’d get off my back.” He said this quieter, under his breath nearly. His eyes went to his coffee mug.

“No, you didn’t.” She said. He looked up at her, puzzled. She had a sly grin on her face. “You wouldn’t. It was more than that to you. You wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.” She didn’t ask these things; she stated them as if they were facts one learned in school.

“I don’t know about that-”

“It’s true though! You’re back to being yourself. Well, not entirely yourself. You’re not my lovestruck mopey piece of shit anymore though, you’re _his_!”

Michael couldn’t resist the corners of his mouth turning up slightly at this.

“See!” Lindsay pointed at his small smile. “You know I’m right! You’re in love with him and you won’t even tell me his name!” Michael shook his head.

“I’m not in love with him, Lindsay, and I won’t tell you his name because it was just sex.” Just sex. The words sounded unconvincing even to himself. They hurt leaving his mouth. Was that really all Gavin had been to him? God, no. What he had felt was much stronger than that. He imagined, accidentally, the pained look on Gavin’s face had he heard Michael say that. He shoved the thought aside. No. Gavin wouldn’t care and neither would he. But the phone number burning a hole in his back pocket protested otherwise.

“Then why are you acting like this now?” Lindsay demanded.

“Like what?”

“This!” She motioned vaguely to him.

“Because…” Michael hesitated, not confident whether or not he should tell Lindsay about having Gavin’s number. She stared at him expectantly, demanding that he finish the sentence. he sighed. “He gave me his number before I left.” Lindsay gasped as if he’d just confessed to murder.

“What the hell!” She exclaimed. “Have you called him?!”

“No, I haven’t called him!”

“Well why the fuck not?!”

“I told you Linds, ‘cause it was a one night stand!”

“Well I don’t recall getting the phone numbers of many of my one night stands! When did he give it to you? Before you, like, hooked up or…?” She trailed off.

“Right before I left.”

“Left where? His place?”

“Um, no.”

“Left where?!”

“Paris.” That set her off again.

“You hooked up with this guy your _last day there_?!” She sounded truly astounded.

“Yeah. But the number thing is nothing. It was so last minute-”

“Like he gave it to you on your way out the door? Typed it in your phone? Wrote it on your arm?”

“He handed it to me on a slip of paper right before I boarded the train.”

“Boarded the -” Lindsay’s mouth was agape as she stopped herself. “You hooked up at the _train station_?!”

“No! He rode with me to the station because I was running late and he was helping me out.”

Lindsay turned away from Michael, pinching the bridge of her nose as if in pain, or perhaps like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Couldn’t believe Michael’s ignorance.

“Michael, you fucking dumbass. He really liked you. Do you even hear yourself?” She shook her head at him. He shrugged, still unconvinced.

“But he lived in a different country. Across the ocean.” Michael didn’t know this for sure, but the British accent and the European Tour made it seem safe to assume.

“So?” Lindsay was beyond done, and also bursting with Excitement for Michael. “It’s the city of LOVE for fuck’s sake! Not the city of one night stands and then tragically leave the next day and never speak to them again!”

“Alright, alright!” Michael threw his hands in the air, as if surrendering. He was laughing as well. “I’ll call him for fuck’s sake. But only because it will make you shut the fuck up,” He teased.

Lindsay finally stopped nagging him. Instead, looking at him with big eyes and a smug smile, she took a sip of her coffee.

“Shut up,” Michael said offhandedly, but he too was grinning.

“I didn’t say anything,” she protested, smirk still plastered on her face.

“You just loooove to be right.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took another swig. “I’d make you call him right now, but it needs to be more special than that. But you HAVE to call him. You hear me?”

Michael nodded, rolling his eyes at Lindsay. She could be such a _mom_ sometimes. Afterwards, the two continued to chat for a bit . Michael felt better already because they were themselves again. Going to Paris, it seemed had done exactly what he’d intended it to do.

Mostly.


	8. Chapter 8

Michael knew immediately as he walked into work the next day that something was off. Ryan spotted him first, and he paraded over, face breaking into a grin. He welcomed Michael home with a devious smile. Michael nodded and thanked him, not thinking much of it.

Next came Ray, who showed up after Michael, and his face went from blank to amused in two seconds flat.

“Ayy, Michael!” he cheered, “How was your exotic vacation?” There seemed to be an undertone to the question, but Michael dismissed it as paranoia. He kept the suspicions in  the back of his mind.

“Um, not that exotic? I went to Paris, dumbass, not the jungles of South America,” Michael jeered. Ray just smirked.

It was the same with everyone else he came across. They all had the same attitude towards him. Overly happy for him, or to see him, congratulatory as if he had been in Africa saving dying children.  They also seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for news. Maybe they just wanted to hear about Paris. They were just glad to have him back. It didn’t click until they moved to the Achievement Hunter office and Geoff walked in.

“Hey, Loverboy,” he said, barely fending off laughter. “How was Paris?” Michael went white with rage.

“God damnit Lindsay, _you fucking blabber mouth!_ ” Michael said loudly, and everyone else in the room burst into laughter. When it finally subsided was when she waltzed in, RedBull in hand. That set them off all over again. Michael turned to the door, staring daggers at her.

“I heard my name?” She asked sweetly. He heard ripples of giggles behind him.

“What the fuck?!” he asked, frustration in his voice. She ignored his anger and his question, instead working on her own agenda.

“Did you call him?” The laughter hushed again. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He ignored her right back.

“You can’t just go around telling the entirety of this fucking company about my personal life!”

“I didn’t tell everyone!” Michael stared at her, remembering briefly the way everyone, and he did mean _everyone_ was acting around him this morning.

“Only the Achievement Hunters,” she continued, “And Burnie, and Barb. Gus. Adam and Joel…” She tried to think of any more.

“That about it?” Michael wondered sarcastically. She defended herself, picking up on his sarcasm.

“I was excited for you! Now stop avoiding my question! Did you call him or not?”

“Yeah, did you?” Ray repeated. No one had started any actual work yet, as they were all waiting for his response.

“He must must have called,” Jack assured them.

“Please tell me you fucking called,” Geoff said. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. All eyes were on Michael. You could practically hear Lindsay’s internal yelling at him, see the burning fire behind her challenging eyes.

“… No.”

The room immediately erupted into a chorus of ‘what the fuck’s and ‘you piece of shit’s and ‘you HAVE to call though’s. Ryan threw the fish pillow at him and Lindsay looked ready to throw a chair or maybe rip out his throat.

The truth was, Michael had had every intention to call Gavin as he had promised. He left the diner with new confidence. Lindsay had been his voice of reason, he thought. Having her as his friend gave him new strength, he thought. And so, he had driven home, sat down, and got out the phone number again. It was creased and worn down, at this point, from being taken out and around and folded and unfolded so often.

That was where he slowed down. He brought up the dial screen on his cell phone, but he couldn’t type the digits. He decided to do one at a time. As he did, he unpacked his suitcase. Pants. Folded. 6. Shirts. Put away. 1. Toothbrush. Back in the bathroom. 2. And so on for nearly an hour.

Then the number was there, on his phone, glaring at him. Each bright little digit glowing from the screen, taunting him for being such a coward. Lindsay’s voice hissed in his ear to press call. He avoided it. He went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. He washed his hands. He picked up random things in his apartment and moved them around, though they were already in place. Then, finally, he took his phone to the living room and brought himself to hit call.

Then, he panicked. It was the wrong number, he thought, which was impossible because not only had he memorized the number, he’d double checked at no less than fifteen times. He thought it anyways. Gavin wouldn’t pick up. He was busy! He had a life! He was on tour. And what would Michael do then? Would he leave a voicemail? What would he say? _“Hey it’s Michael from Paris, I fucked you in the ass a couple nights ago, remember me? Anyways, I was just calling to catch up!”_ Michael realized, with sudden certainty, that he hadn’t factored in the time difference! Gavin was certainly not going to pick up! Worse yet, what  if Gavin DID pick up?

It was then Michael hung up. And the phone hadn’t even started ringing yet. Then, he drank another cup of coffee, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. It was around 4pm.

He woke up around five hours later with a gnawing in his stomach and knew he had to eat something. He munched numbly on some Cheez-Its that were in his cupboard and then decided to take a shower, which, in the end, composed less of actual washing and more of tiredly sitting with hot water running in the background. Then he changed into actual pajamas and went back to sleep. He knew it was unhealthy. He blamed the jetlag.

Now, with everyone screaming profanities and other various things at him, he offered up no explanation.

“I tried to call!” he finally countered. It sounded weak to his own ears.

“What do you mean you tried?” Lindsay demanded. Ray repeated what Michael had said, laughing to himself.

“You either call or you don’t,” Ryan said.

“Exactly. Call or not call, there is no try,” Geoff did a shitty Yoda impression. Michael rolled his eyes at the cheesy Star Wars reference.

“Let me see your phone,” Lindsay commanded.

“What? Why?” Michael protested, subconsciously reaching for his phone, which was sitting so conveniently on his desk, but Ray had already snatched it and was handing it to Geoff, who gave it to Ryan who tossed it to Lindsay. Michael tried in vain to get it back, but he knew the redhead would simply pull a monkey-in-the-middle if he took a grab at it.  He had to reside on the hope that Lindsay didn’t know his lock code.

She, of course, did, and the office went silent once again as she punched it in. Then they all heard the sound of it unlocking fill the room.

“God damnit Lindsay,” Michael reached for his phone but she tugged away. The others egged her on. She went to his call history, turning her back to him.

“Real mature, assholes,” Michael pouted, making another grab at his phone. She yanked it further from his reach. “I’m telling you-”

“He called a number the iPhone identifies as a ‘UK area code,’” She declared, turning back to them, “But he hung up after eleven seconds.” Various groans and grumbles followed.

Michael snatched his phone back, clicking to turn it off and going back to his desk. The others, sensing his uneasiness, spoke softer, trying to get him to talk. Ray poked him gently.

“Michael, come on. You obviously really like this guy. Why don’t you call him?”

Lindsay walked over, sitting on his desk. She wore a sympathetic look, aware that had overstepped her boundaries, but was not apologetic. She didn’t say anything.

“Why did you hang up?” Jack asked politely.

“Look at you, dude, you’re sad as dicks. You gotta call him,” Geoff added.

“Michael, don’t be mad,” was all Ryan said, “Lindsay was just trying to help.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and call him, Michael. What are you so scared of? What do you have to lose?” Lindsay got more and more intense as she spoke. “Just call him! Just bring up the number and and press call! You can-”

“It was just a one night stand!!” Michael snapped. “Just drop it.”

So they went on throughout the rest of the week normally. Michael and his mysterious foreign lover became something of a joke. They mentioned it in their Let’s Plays, jokingly, telling to call him and have his “lover” make a guest appearance They sang the Ghostbusters theme song to him over and over, except it was just the “who you gonna call” part. During GO! Geoff made the joke that whoever got Michael to call would win that day, which led to several methods of begging, pleading, and, in Ryan’s case, threatening Michael to call, all without result.

The teasing had finally eased up by Monday, when it was time to film AHWU. Geoff claimed he had a surprise for the rest of the Achievement Hunters, so they were not only filming Geoff, but everyone’s individual reaction.

The week had composed mostly of Michael working, putting on a happy smile and voice for his coworkers and the audience, and then going home. Most nights he simply showered and got into bed. Some nights he ate, or tried to watch TV, but the food always tasted bland and he couldn’t piece the words from the screen into sentences. His mind was constantly on Gavin. Wondering what he might be doing, or worse, who he might be doing it with. He did, in fact, call Gavin after a few more days, with no response. He had tried, at first to forget Gavin entirely, and when that hadn’t worked, he let himself be encompassed by the thoughts of him. He allowed Gavin to seep into his mind, dripping into his thoughts and dreams and flooding every unoccupied second.

Michael was, to put it shortly, in a state of disaster. He knew he had to stop, and he told himself he’d put himself back together eventually, but he made no attempts to do these things. So instead, he was letting himself do whatever it is he was doing now and constantly telling himself he would fix himself as soon as it was over.

At least the teasing has subsided for the most part. He had managed enough to convince them all that they had the old Michael back. Everything was fine for the time being.

“Eyo, wasup everybody it’s Geoff from Achievement Hunter.”

Geoff continued on with the normal AHWU announcements. Jack, who already knew the “surprise” told the others when to click on their cameras. The room was buzzing with an excited energy and things felt normal for a fraction of a second. Then Geoff started speaking.

“As you guys may have been hearing, Rooster Teeth is buying up and combining with some other channels, like SoftPictures and Gamesbato,” he started.

“Well we were thinking about someone from one of these new channels joining us here.” They all sat forward, suddenly interested. They mumbled curiously and excitedly amongst themselves. Michael smiled genuinely for the first time in a while.

“Alright! Who?” Ray shouted at Geoff who had paused for dramatic effect.

The air was quiet, crackling with energy, and so was Michael. It was as if every Achievement Hunter in the room were holding their breath. Geoff looked around with an I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin.

“His name is Gavin Free. He’s from a channel called The Slow Mo Guys.”


	9. Chapter 9

Gavin, from a first glance, seemed to be functioning perfectly. He went onto stage every night with more energy and vigor than ever before. He went to the occasional afterparty, met with fans, and bounced all over Europe with Dan. But on the few nights they didn’t have a show, Gavin wanted to go out. To a bar, to a club, to sight see. It’s like he never stopped.

When he did stop, however, he would crash hard. He’d sleep for twelve or fourteen hours and then be right back, raring to go. Dan admired Gavin’s enthusiasm, sure, but he could tell exactly where it was coming from. Gavin wanted Dan to see him as his old, energetic, carefree self. But he was trying too hard. In reality, Gavin might as well be transparent to Dan. He was running away from his pain, from his problems. The memories of Michael. He was trying to block all emotion out of his mind by staying too busy for it.

And Dan was making it all too easy for him to do so. He encouraged going to afterparties to interact with fans. He took him to bars and local touristy type places. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to handle Gavin in this situation; he was just trying to help a friend.

He had learned early on in the week not to ask why Gavin wasn’t taking anyone home, despite plenty of people practically throwing themselves at him. Gavin had gone all strange and quiet and dazed off for a bit when asked this. Then when he came back, he was wild as ever. he wanted to keep moving, keep getting something new.

And so, when Rooster Teeth emailed, offering to buy the channel from the Brits and combine it with their own, Dan knew it would be a good thing for Gavin’s mind to chew on for a bit. Not being an independent channel anymore. They offered Dan a separate job, but Rooster Teeth was in America, and Dan couldn’t live there and have a job there while still in the army in England. He thought maybe that Gavin could have the job. He brought this up to Gavin later that evening, while they were on a train to their next location.

“Dan! Are you kidding?! That sounds top!” Gavin squeaked at him. Gavin, unlike Dan, had heard of Rooster Teeth. They made Red vs Blue and other shows and videos he watched on occasion.

“They offered you another job, too, on another channel of theirs. Well, me actually, but obviously I can’t take it. I’m sure they’d let you have it though.”

“Dan this is awesome! This is right cool.”

“You’d live in Texas though. In the States.”

“So…?” Gavin asked, “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, B!”

The two continued chattering and discussing the process and the changes and such. Dan was wary that Gavin was not wholly of sound mind, but he seemed dead set so they finally decided to accept. Dan began forming the response to the e-mail around the time Gavin was finally drifting off to sleep, having crashed again.

In the morning, they had a show to prepare for, but not for another seven or so hours, so after they got off the train and checked into their hotel for the night, Dan suggested they sightsee and Gavin eagerly agreed. He still felt off, but also very optimistic about his new job. It kept his mind on something else for a little while. He agreed to meet Dan in the lobby in twenty minutes.

Upon getting out of the shower, Gavin still had several minutes left so he thought he’d go to the Rooster Teeth channel to watch something. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, maybe he’d just watch an episode of Red vs Blue before it was time to go.

When the screen finally loaded, however, the video that caught his attention was titled “Rage Quit - The Impossible Game” and it had over five million views. Gavin thought it funny because he himself had been known to rage quit games before, but he thought that people who played video games for a living ought to be too good at them for those sort of things. He realized that he too would be one of those people, soon enough. So perhaps he was wrong about them. He clicked on the video.

As the tiny loading circle spun, (the wifi in Spain was bollocks apparently) Gavin noticed there were several other videos titled similarly. _There had to be some awfully funny rage quitting going on at Rooster Teeth if they have an entire series of videos of it_ , he thought. Then the video begun. Gavin made it full screen. He noted the humor in the brief title sequence: the peaceful music, like the calm before the storm. Then it began.

He recognized the accent first. The loud, raspy, slightly annoyed, extremely American, Jersey boy accent.

“What the fuck am I doing? Well apparently now I’m playing community games. Cause I’m that much of a fucking asshole.”

Gavin’s heart stopped. His stomach climbed into his throat. His hands trembled.

“This is the…the impossible game? Or some bullshit and they’re right - it’s definitely _fucking_ impossible.”

His mind stopped. Time stood still. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

“You’re this lil fucking cube, which is basically, uh, Super Meat Boy, except he’s got no fucking face. It’s the exact same thing. Look at ‘im. And you just go around and you jump over god damn spike and blocks and shit…”

It was exactly who he thought it was. There was no doubt. The voice that had been haunting him for eight days. The voice he was trying to get out of his head  was right here, playing on a video.

He had agreed to go work at a company with Michael.

* * *

Michael was sitting on the floor. This he was aware of. He did not know how he got there, or how long he had been there. But he was on the floor, no less. How long had he been there? Was he not standing a moment ago?

He was vaguely aware of a female voice talking at him. His mother maybe? No. Lindsay. His ex-girlfriend. No, Lindsay his best friend. He was then aware of the dull aching in his head, the stars behind his eyes.

After that, he was hit with the reason why he fell. Gavin. Gavin Free, of the Slow Mo Guys. His Gavin. Well, almost his Gavin. The Gavin he had slept with, at the very least. How was that possible? Over seven billion people in the world and the single person joining the Achievement Hunter team just happened to be Gavin. He felt sick.

“Michael!” Lindsay’s voice startled him back to consciousness.

“Hmm?” he asked, eyes blurring back into focus.

“Are you alright?” It was then he noticed the five other people hovered over him, staring and looking incredibly concerned.

“Me? What? Oh, yeah.” He stumbled over the words. Gavin. The name was pasted all over his mind, flashing in neon lights behind his eyes.

“What happened?” Jack was the first to ask. Geoff extended a hand and hoisted Michael to his feet. It was like being peered at under a microscope. They were all searching for answers in his eyes.

“I dunno,” Michael shifted uncomfortably. He wanted them to stop looking at him. Why wouldn’t they stop looking? “I think I’m just tired. And hungry. Probably a little faint.” He _did_ feel lightheaded. But not for those reasons.

All eyes remained locked on him in a very concerned manner. He could probably have brushed it off as nothing if his voice hasn’t sounded so rushed and panicky.

“Probably shouldn’t have skipped coffee this morning,” he said, trying to play it down as a joke. No one said a word, all studying him cautiously. Lindsay broke the silence first.

“Well, we better go get you some then,” she said. She put her hand on the small of his back and led him down to the kitchen. She talked softly and sweetly to him and told him to sit down. She said she’d make coffee for him.

He sat and dazed off again. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real life. Gavin Free. Of the Slow Mo Guys. Here. In Texas. In Austin. At work. Michael’s work. A twinge of anxiety bit at Michael’s stomach. He was shaken from his thoughts by Lindsay. She slammed a mug of coffee down on the counter, the hot beverage sloshing down over the sides. Her eyes turned fierce, determined.

“Alright, Michael, cut the shit,” she said. “What going on with you?!” Michael reached for the coffee tentatively, maintaining eye contact. The room was filled with subtle office hub-bub and a chilly draft give Michael goosebumps.

“I told you Linds, I’m tired. I’m fine, I swear. Probably just jetlag.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been back in the states for TEN DAYS!”

“I can’t say anything right now, Linds.” He wasn’t lying about being tired, but this had nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was a deep-in-your-bones tired, the kind that neither coffee nor sleep nor anything could really shake off.

“What is this about? Is this about someone joining the Achievement Hunters? Is it about your Paris thing?”

That’s when it clicked in Michael’s mind. They knew. They knew and they were fucking with him. He narrowed his eyes at Lindsay, standing up abruptly, knocking over the barstool. He turned and stormed off back toward the Achievement Hunter office. He threw the door open, startling everyone inside. He was panting, too, his eyes filled with fury, his face red. Michael wasn’t usually an angry crier, but he was pretty damn close in that moment.

Ryan sighed with relief, “Michael what the fuck - ”

“Hey buddy you alright - ”

“How the FUCK did you find out?” Michael interrupted Geoff.

“Michael, what are you talking about?”

“You KNOW Geoff, you asshole! Who told you?” Michael demanded, practically spitting venom.

“Told us what?” Ray asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

“How did you find out?” Michael repeated. Lindsay appeared behind him in the doorway. Michael turned on her.

“You found out didn’t you? And then you just told EVERYONE didn’t you? Just like last time! Why couldn’t you just leave it alone?! It was my _personal business_ , Lindsay!”

“Michael I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The look on her face said it more than her words. A quick scan of the other confused faces in the room kicked him out of his delusion.

So it was real. Gavin was coming to work here. Michael felt dizzy and sick. His eyes were wet with tears now. He turned back to the rest of the Achievement Hunter guys, apologized, and walked out.

As he took long strides in the parking lot, the wind nipped at him. He tried not to think too hard, but he was scared. Scared and embarrassed and angry and… hopeful? What was going to happen now?

He snuffed out the spark of a thought before it could ignite. _No thinking_ , he told himself.

Lindsay jogged after him, startling him as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He could only imagine what his face looked like, eyes puffy and red from crying, face blotchy; he sure was a sight.

“Let me drive you home,” she said. He only nodded in response.

The drive to his house was long and quiet. The only time Lindsay spoke was to point out that he could tell her anything. He only nodded again. His voice felt as if it had escaped him. He focused on a stain on the floor of her car and the way the interior of the car smelled like her perfume but also slightly like the lavender she kept on the dashboard. She hadn’t apologized for pushing him earlier, but the questions had at least temporarily ceased. When they finally arrived, Michael hesitated leaving the car.

“Uh, Michael, we’re here,” she nudged him after a moment or so. Michael nodded again.

“Linds I gotta tell you something.” His voice was shaky. Silence. She turned the car off. He forced himself to look at her and continued, “While I was in Paris… Well, you know the Slow Mo Guys are on tour right now, right?”

She nodded, listening patiently, which was quite out of character for her. Her face was unreadable, anticipating Michael’s response.

“Well they were in Paris at the same time as me. I bought a ticket to see them.” He swallowed hard. The words came out slowly, like pouting molasses. His sentences were choppy. His mouth was dry.

“That’s so weird,” was all she said.

“It gets weirder. I get out of the show and I go back to my hotel, and they’re _there._ ” Michael struggled to keep his voice stable.

“Who was there?”

“The Slow Mo Guys. Dan and… _Gavin_.”

“No way!”

“Yeah. And so I asked them to sign my tee I got from the show, right?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about all this?” she asked in a friendly way. He didn’t answer her question.

“Well I got to talking to them. And then Gavin asked me if I wanted to go get a drink.”

“Oh.” It clicked in Lindsay’s mind.

“And a little later… he asked me if I wanted to come back to his room…” They were both quiet. She spoke first:

“So Gavin was the guy. THE guy.”

Michael kept quiet. He swallowed, pushing back tears. He nodded quickly. Lindsay leaned over the seat to hug him. Her sweet perfume wafted around him like a cloud and Michael took a shaky breath in. They sat like that for a bit before Lindsay spoke again.

“Michael… I know I’ve been saying this a lot but you really, _really_ have to call him. I mean, they fly in in a few days. He may not know what he’s in for, and then things will be a hell of a lot more awkward than they have to be.”

He sighed, “I know,” he told her, breaking off the hug. “And… Lindsay?” Her pretty green eyes met his teary copper ones. “Thank you. For everything.”

He wasn’t just thanking her for her support now, but really, for everything. For breaking it off with him, for pushing him to go to Paris without her. He was glad to have met Gavin, and he wouldn’t have otherwise. He was thanking her for lunch, for yelling at him to call Gavin, for being his friend and voice of reason through everything.

“See you later,” she said, not unkindly, as he got out of the car.

Michael dialed Gavin’s number again as he got out of the car, not letting himself lose courage again. It rung for what felt like an eternity. Feeling determined and in a borderline rage-esque mood, he dialed again. Still no response. He put his phone away and decided he’d just have to call again in a bit. This time, he was going to set things right. And for the first time, he stopped fearing and started hoping.

What if what Michael had felt in Paris wasn’t just a one-time thing? What if it was still there when he saw Gavin, if it was mutual? He tried not to let himself get too carried away, but the thoughts made his heart flutter. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all…


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes! Since I've been posting this all at once, here's some general information: a) the timelines are not exactly lined up. You find out this chapter why Gavin hasn't picked up Michael's call and that goes back to the first time Michael called with no response. b) this fic was originally posted on my tumblr, @satansgirllfriend, so feel free to follow me there! and c) this is my first work from almost 2 years ago so I have grown & improved a lot as a writer but I'd still love to hear any feedback any readers might have! Thank you so much & enjoy the last chapter & Epilogue!

Gavin was standing in the hotel bathroom, staring in shock. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t real. It was his imagination. This was all some terrible, horrible prank. He had been running too fast from one person, he had been so incredibly careless, that he had managed to run smack dab into exactly what he was running from.

He snapped back into reality as he heard banging on the door. His clumsy feet worked without orders from his brain, stumbling over to open it. _No, no, no_ , his brain chanted.

“Gavin! I’ve been waiting for you for nearly ten minutes! I figured you were just late, as usual but then - “ Dan’s eyes caught the running sink and Gavin’s phone in a puddle of water on the counter. Gavin opened his mouth as if to speak, but every word he knew had suddenly disappeared from his brain.

“Gav! Your phone!” Dan moved to the sink, picking the phone up and shaking it off. He wiped it off on his shirt and then tried to examine it. The color had gone funny and the sound had distorted from what Gavin had been playing. Gavin was still standing by the door, watching Dan, showing no apparent concern for his phone whatsoever. Dan looked from the phone up at him.

“Gavin,” Dan eyed him warily, “What’s wrong, B?”

“I-it’s him, Dan.” Gavin look as if he’d seen a ghost. And he had seen one, of sorts. Or rather, heard one. A ghose he thought he had left far in the past. His mouth felt dry. He thought perhaps it was the coffee.

“Who?” Gavin’s lips pursed together as if to make the “M” sound, but it didn’t come out right. Or at all.

“Him! It’s him! He works there.”

“Who, B?! Who works there?” Dan had a lurking suspicion but he thought it impossible.

“Micool,” Gavin answered quietly. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he could barely choke the name out. To Gavin, just speaking his name aloud felt like puncturing a lung.

“Oh, Gavin,” Dan walked to him and placed a hand his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Do you want me to email them back and cancel the deal? We haven’t signed anything yet…”

Gavin shook his head numbly. “No, we can’t. It’s been my dream to work at Rooster Teeth since I was fourteen. I’m not going to miss out on that opportunity because I slept with someone who works there.”

Gavin could feel the twist of anxiety in his stomach. How could he handle this, honestly? Perhaps he was overestimating his strength. The awkward encounters weren’t even the main thing on his mind, not the way everything else was. Like actually, physically seeing Michael again. He was still unsure if Michael had felt the magnetic pull towards Gavin as he had felt towards Michael. And how the people would talk. By god, the second he and Michael were awkward people would talk. That would be everyone’s lasting impression of him.

And then, below all his fears and worries, was a tiny bit of hope shining through. _Surely this couldn’t be a coincidence_ , it said. _What are the odds?_ Maybe this was fate giving Gavin and Michael a second chance. Maybe Michael really would  run to him with open arms and claim he felt the same, Maybe this was their chance to be together for real. Gavin told the hope to shut up. It hurt too much. Gavin was too much of a happy person to hurt.

“Are you sure, B?” Dan prompted again. He didn’t want to pressure Gavin.

“I’m sure.” He walked over to Dan tentatively, as if he were experiencing gravity for the first time, or thought that the floor would collapse.

“It really is buggered up,” Gavin said, taking his phone. “Can you call me? I want to see if it still works.

Dan agreed, pulling out his own phone and finding Gavin in his contacts. Both men seemed to hold their breath as the phone rung. Gavin’s phone lit up, displaying a discolored call screen and they both exhaled with relief; it was short lived, however, because immediately after, the phone died completely.

“Oh, bollocks,” said Gavin, smashing the buttons. Was it that bad that his first thought flashed to Michael? What did he think of this whole mess? Did he know yet? Did he remember? Did he care?

“Don’t worry, B, we can just get it fixed or replaced when we get to the States,” Dan said. Once again, Gavin simply agreed quietly.

He did his best from that point on to go about his day normally. He followed Dan around Madrid for sightseeing. He spoke in bits of butchered Spanish and are mouthwateringly delicious food and took pictures. He tried to turn his phone on a couple times, but after a while each time, he’d get a call, it would buzz and eventually power off. He gave up after the fourth failed try.

That night, at the show, Dan shot Gavin several worried glances when he thought no one would notice, but everything seemed to be normal. Or, as normal as things could be with Gavin. Something had shifted; Gavin was still in a bad place, but no longer a mess, no longer a bomb waiting to go off. Dan hoped he could take some comfort in that, if nothing else.

* * *

When Michael couldn’t get ahold of Gavin, he went to the next best thing. The following day he was at work bright and early, banging on Burnie’s office door. A very tired and even more irritated-looking Burnie answered.

“Michael, what the fuck?” He was dressed and put together quite nicely, but he looked half asleep. It was a well-known fact that Burnie wasn’t a morning person, but Michael couldn’t wait any longer. He had to start fixing everything now.

“I need to talk to you about the new guys.” Despite it not even being 8 o’clock yet, Michael was still buzzing with energy.

Burnie nodded and went back to his desk, (or, more likely, the steaming cup of coffee on top of it) leaving the door open for Michael to follow him. They sat down.

“Can I get you some coffee?” Burnie asked.

“No thanks. I’m alright.” It was quiet. Burnie watched Michael with tired, attentive eyes, waiting. Michael took a deep breath in.

“I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering when the Slow Mo Guys are coming here.” It was like exhaling after holding your breath for a long time.

“End of the week.”

“End of the…” the words caught themselves in Michael’s throat. He had thought he’d have more time to prepare himself. Nevertheless, he had to continue.

“Is something wrong with that?” Burnie asked, puzzled. His tone was colored with apathy, communicating very clearly that even if there was a problem, he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

“No… NO, not at all. It’s just really soon that’s all.”

“Well, they insisted. They’re flying in Friday and we’re picking them up from the airport.”

Michael’s ears perked up at the sound of that. He tried to push aside Burnie’s first remark, though it sounded rather odd.

“You are? Do you think I could come, too?” He must have said it more eagerly than he’d intended to, because Burnie eyed him a bit suspiciously. He raised his coffee mug to his lips painfully slowly.

“I don’t know. Barb and I were going… and we were going to take Geoff, too, I think.”

“Burnie, _please_. I’m begging you. There’s something I have to do.” Once again, Burnie simply looked at him puzzledly. Michael could practically see the cogs turning in his still-waking head and worried for a moment that he would put it together. Lindsay had told practically the whole office about his exciting Paris night life, and he had freaked out and gone home early yesterday. But then again, only Lindsay knew that he had gone to see the Slow Mo Guys and only Lindsay knew the whole story. Still, it wouldn’t take too much digging to find out that the Slow Mo Guys had been performing in Paris at the same time Michael had been there. Before Michael could fidget for too long, Burnie signed.

“Alright, I suppose. Why the hell not?” Michael insides twisted with excitement and fear.

“Yes! Thank you Burnie! You’re the best!” Michael called as he sprung from his seat and headed to go find Lindsay. Burnie’s office door swung open behind him.

* * *

Gavin’s stomach curled in anxiety. He didn’t know when he would see Michael. He didn’t know if he’d formally meet him or accidentally bump into him while trying to get coffee. He could only imagine the horrified look on both of their faces, the incredibly tense and uncomfortable silence, the embarrassed murmurs and shuffles away. What if Michael didn’t know he was coming? Oh, god, that would be even worse.

To heighten Gavin’s already intense nerves, he hated flying. Hated it. Every muscle in his body was most likely contracting at that moment. He felt confined in his quiet first class cabin: nothing but puffs of white clouds out any window he could see, small dings of machinery and polite voices of stewardesses. Take off was terrible, but landing was so, so much worse. And they were close now. Gavin was about to land in Michael’s country, in Michael’s state, in Michael’s city. He thought he was going to be sick.

“Well don’t do it on me, at least,” Dan said and Gavin, having realized he had spoken the last bit aloud, gave a nervous laugh. Dan gave him a knowing wink and a friendly smile.

“You’ll be alright, B. Everything will work itself out.”

 _I hope you’re right_ , Gavin thought, and clutched onto the armrest of the plane as it descended directly into his new adventure.

* * *

The ride to the airport could not have felt slower. Burnie and Barb rode up front and Michael, in the back seat, felt like he was buzzing with energy. The only thing bouncing around faster than his leg was his mind, racing at 1000 miles per hour.

He had tried to call Gavin several more times since he found out he was going to be in Austin, to no avail. He attributed it to several things. He was busy. It was a foreign number. Still, it made him squirm. Who gives their number to a one-night-stand and doesn’t answer to calls from unknown numbers?

Then again, who gives their number to a one-night-stand unless it’s not that at all? Gavin must have felt the connection he felt. That was what he had to tell himself or he’d never have built up the courage to do what he was about to do.

Michael’s thoughts wandered, once again, back to Paris. To the hotel where he had just happened to run into Gavin. Vivid memories were still freshly set of the events that took place there. It didn’t take much concentration to resurface thoughts of the light conversation held in the smoky bar atmosphere, or the excruciatingly long elevator ride filled with desperate kisses under fluorescent lights. The was that gravity seemed to pardon Gavin’s wheat-coloured hair in the morning as it stuck up in all directions. The warmth of the cheap hotel coffee seeping from the cup towards Michael’s fingertips. The dull glimmer of green eyes asking for something more as soft hands fumbled with a slip of paper.

These memories kept Michael going. They kept him brave. As if he had been hypnotized, his feet carried him out of Burnie’s car, through the parking lot, and to the door where they stopped suddenly, as if cemented in place.

“I can’t do this,” he said, breaking out in a cold sweat. A dread crept over him, a suffocating fear. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Barbara said, circling back through the automatically-opened doors and pulling on his arm. “Lindsay said you’d pull something like this.” Michael didn’t have the time to be furious before she continued.

“She wouldn’t tell me _why_ , she just said to do anything to get you,” she pointed at Michael, “in there.” She pointed at the door which stood in front of Michael like the ominously open mouth of the hungry beast that Michael was not yet prepared to fight.

“I… I can’t,” Micahel started,but Barb didn’t stop.

“Oh yes you can! Burnie, a little help?”

“Quit being a pussy Michael. You begged to be brought here, you better fucking go in.” Michael was quiet.

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.” He could barely hear his coworkers over the sound of his beating heart. Traffic passed behind them and others walking by craned their heads ever-so-slightly to get a look at the crazy man who wouldn’t go in the airport, but Michael didn’t take note. He realized, suddenly, that Barbara had stopped tugging on him. He turned to see her back to him. When she face him again, it became apparent she was on the phone. She strode back over to him and thrust the phone at him.

“Here.” Confused, Michael took it. He raised it to his face.

“Hello?”

“Michael?” He flinched at first, but Lindsay’s voice came through patiently.

“Linds?”

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this Linds, I made a mistake.”

“Yes, you can do it, and you know it.”

“I don’t know, Lindsay. I don’t know anything.”

“Listen to me, Michael. Something changed in you. I could see it. Anyone could see it. If that’s a mistake, it’s gotta be the best one you’ve ever made. And even if it is, so what? We’re human, it’s what we do. Life will go on. But you’ll never know if you don’t go in there and take that chance.”

Michael was quiet. Burnie and Barb were staring at him expectantly, far less patient than his best friend on the phone. He sighed.

“Okay. Thank you, Lindsay.”

“Bye, Michael. I believe in you.” _Click._ She was gone. He took a deep breath and gave the phone back to Barbara.

With a simple nod, his party began hurrying him inside before he could freak out and change his mind again. His first step felt creaky, like the Tin Man beginning to walk again. After some hesitation, he was finally inside. And then it hit him. He was going to see Gavin again. Gavin was going to be here. In a matter of minutes. Michael thought he might explode.

He followed Burnie and Barb to the proper gate where they would be picking up the Slow Mo Guys and they sat and began to wait. Michael, however, could not sit still. He kept checking his phone. Seconds dragged on as if they were hours. Finally, it was announced that the plane from London had landed. His heart skipped a beat. After a brief wait, passengers were unloading. Michael’s hands were shaking. His eyes scanned the crowd rapidly. He felt the air leaking out of his lungs. The room was spinning. And then.

* * *

As the plane landed, Gavin grew increasingly more anxious. Even after the fear of flying subdued, he couldn’t help but feel like a jittery wreck. He wouldn’t see Michael here, he kept reminding himself. It was just a couple of Rooster Teeth officials here to pick him and Dan up. He had dressed nice and done his hair because he wanted to make a good impression on them. This was what he told himself. It was difficult to ignore the tugging feeling in his gut, though.

After a moment’s wait, he and Dan were headed off. He stretched his legs and put on his backpack. Dan, who had slept most of the ride, had red lines on his arms and face, as well as hair that was flat on one side. He turned to Gavin.

“It feels good to stand again. D’you know it’s only 11:30 here? Christ!”

Gavin mumbled something unintelligently as a response and the two shuffled off the plane and into the airport. He realized abruptly that he had no idea who he was looking for. He assumed they’d have a sign or something.

His eyes flitted from person to person as he kept walking, following the yellow lines on the ground that showed newcomers which path to follow. When his eyes moved up from the floor to the mass of people, he stopped dead, causing Dan, who was following closely behind, to run into him.

“Oi! What are you…” he trailed off as he followed Gavin’s eyes.

Here, in the airport, stood a man in a hoodie and a beanie, a man who looked as breathless as Gavin felt. A man he’d met in Paris, not two weeks earlier. A man who was walking towards him.

* * *

Gavin looked like a deer in headlights as Michael approached him. _He isn’t running away, which must be a good thing_ , Michael assured himself. He swallowed hard.

“Hi,” he said.

“Micool…” It sounded like heaven. Michael could cry because of how good it felt to hear Gavin say his name like that again, in his perfect accent. He tried to catch his breath, to find his words again.

“Gav, I’m so sorry.”

“Micool, what are you - ”

“That night in Paris was the best night of my life. Gav, I felt a connection to you, I still do, and I really hope you feel that way, too. I had so much fun with you and I didn’t want it to end. I could have stayed, but I got scared,” he stumbled, choking up with emotion, “I left you at the station, I put you in my past.” Michael was shaking, tears welling in his eyes, but he kept going. Gavin reached for Michael’s shaking hands and gave them a stable squeeze.

“But if you.. can find it in your heart… to forgive me… if you - if you say you feel the same, all that shit is behind us. My heart belongs to you and only you and you never have to wonder. You never have to ask.” Michael took a deep breath and his tear-stained face broke into a weak smile.

He searched Gavin’s eyes for any clues, any hints at what he was thinking. There was only shock. His mouth was agape and he stared at Michael, as if trying to process everything that had just happened. Michael bit his lower lip in anticipation.

“Gav… say something… please.”

Michael felt as if he were Atlas, as if the weight of the whole world were on his shoulders in that moment. Gavin could very easily kick him in the knee and he would collapse under the weight of everything. He wouldn’t mind, though. He’d happily die now that he had told Gavin how he felt. He could feel his heart aching with every beat. Every second that Gavin remained silent was another hundred pounds added to Michael’s shoulders. He carried it with grace. The two didn’t break eye contact. Gavin cocked his head to the side, his mouth still parted.

And then he did something Michael would never forget. He did not speak. He didn’t say a word. He paused and threw his arms around Michael and kissed him. And the weight of the world was suddenly gone, and Michael felt weightless. In that moment, in that kiss, Michael flew. He knew what it was like to be happy, to be in love.

And how good it was to taste Gavin’s lips again. Michael kissed Gavin back hungrily, wrapping his arms tightly around Gavin’s waist, pulling Gavin as close to him as possible. He hoped his cheeks weren’t too wet. He hoped Gavin felt as happy as he did. He wanted to share this endless happiness with the man he loved.

When they broke the kiss, Michael held Gavin close to him and rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin smiled at him, and they both knew. Each knew how the other felt. And they shared a perfect moment.

“This time, I’m here to stay.”


	11. Epilogue

“AAAAAAAHH GAVIN WHAT THE FUCK?” Michael’s voice voice was high pitched with fury as he raged at the game his boyfriend was sucking balls at playing. The corners of his mouth, however, were tipped up, and he was laughing with disappointment. Gavin was squeaking with laughter. Every time the two played a video game, Gavin antagonized until he got a reaction of this sort.

“Let’s stop,” Michael choked out with fake hopelessness and turned off the camera. Gavin was sitting as close to him as possible, their legs tangled together below the cheap desks like the millions of computer wires no one ever bothered to organize. Gavin had a habit of doing this when Michael wouldn’t let him sit in his lap, which just so happened to be all the time.

“You’re fucking terrible at video games, you know that?” He asked. Gavin grinned at him and shrugged. He had a way of shrugging with his whole body. Michael couldn’t help but notice how very British it was. When his shoulders moved, the sweater he was wearing slipped off ever so slightly, revealing the purple marks that Michael had left there the night before.

“I have no idea how you got this job,” Michael said, pulling Gavin’s sweater back up for him and then leaning back in his chair. Gavin only beamed.

“I don’t either, but aren’t you glad I did?”  He wore such a smug look Michael wanted to slap him, but instead he just shook his head, rolled his eyes, and moved to get up. Gavin stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back.

“No, don’t leave, Micool,” Every time he said Michael’s name, it brought the American back to the day they met in the hotel room in Paris. It still gave him butterflies, made his head woozy and made him weak at the knees. He was undeniably and overwhelmingly in love with Gavin Free.

Gavin knew that saying Michael’s name was his weak spot, and he used it to his advantage. Even now, it made Michael pause. He leaned over to kiss Gavin, but as he pulled away, Gavin kissed him again, pulling him back down. Gavin grasped onto Michael’s shirt and kissed him furiously, and Michael could hardly protest.

“Gav, please,” Michael panted when Gavin moved to his jawline, "we have work to do. I need to tell everyone we’re done.”

“They know we’re done,” Gavin protested, “They can hear or rather, not hear, your screaming, Micool.”

Michael didn’t respond to this, and instead let Gavin keep doing what he was doing. After a moment or so more, he pulled Gavin onto his lap, his lips hovering below Gavin’s as he panted. Gavin’s hands cupped Michael’s face and he smiled as they made eye contact.

Not a minute later, the door banged open, causing each man to jump. Gavin scrambled back to his chair, his hair mussed and his face bright red. They heard Geoff’s laughter from the doorway.

“How many times have I told you two, no bangin’ in the office!” he teased. Michael scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Calm down, Geoff, it’s not like there were dicks out or anything,” Michael retorted with a laugh. Gavin stayed quiet and Ray, who entered behind Geoff, gave the boyfriends a thumbs-up and flashed a wink as he walked by.

“Oh yeah, and Burnie wants to see you two,” Ryan informed them as he sat down. Michael and Gavin exchanged confused glances.

“Now?” Michael asked.

“I guess.”

“Okay. C’mon, Gav, let’s go.” He took the hand of a sheepish Gavin and the two headed off. Gavin trailed behind Michael like a puppy, glancing down at their interlocked fingers and beaming at his boyfriend.

Burnie smiled at the two as they appeared at the entrance to his office, asking them both to take a seat.

“As you know, we’re doing the Valentine’s Day Podcast tomorrow.” The boys nodded. “Well I was wondering if you two would like to be on it. To tell your story. About how you met and all. With Paris and the airport and all. It’s very romantic you know.” Towards the end, he looked at Michael specifically, who could feel color rushing to his cheeks.

Gavin looked at Michael, but Michael didn’t look back. He knew the look on Gavin’s face. He was pleading, begging. Of course Gavin wanted this. Michael wasn’t sure, though. He wasn’t certain he wanted to open up that much to the fan base, even if they were all a community.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Burnie noted after seeing the look on Michael’s face, “just in the next twenty four hours or so.”

“Okay,” Michael said, focused more on his thoughts than on what Burnie was saying, “Thanks, Burnie."

Gavin stood up right away, his hand still attached to Michael’s, and pulled Michael out of Burnie’s office.

“Please Micool pleeeease,” he begged as soon as the two were in the hallway.

“I don’t really know, Gav.”

“Don’t you want to brag about what a romantic you are? About how cute we are?” Gavin was doing his best puppy dog eyes, but Michael wasn’t buying it. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think.

“I do, Gavvy, of course I do. I just… I’m not sure. You haven’t even been here a year yet. You don’t know how vicious the Rooster Teeth fan base can be sometimes. I love you, I don’t want to expose you to that too soon.”

“It’s got to be worse since I’m the boyfriend of such a big sex icon of the company, yeah?” Gavin teased and Michael playfully shoved him. Gavin wrapped his arms around Michael to let him know it was okay. He could see how anxious Michael was and he didn’t want to make that worse for him. When he let go, Michael looked a little less stressed out.

“I love you too, Micool, but I know there’s more that's affecting your nerves right now. I’ve been working here for nine months, and been your official boyfriend for eight of those. I think I can handle it, okay? Just think about it. For me.” Sensing his boyfriend needed space, Gavin kissed Michael goodbye and went on his way back toward the Achievement Hunter office.

Michael’s mind immediately set to work. Why _was_ he so hesitant to do this? There was only one person who came to mind who could possibly help him figure it out, and so he set off to go see her.

“So Burnie has asked the company’s favorite lovebirds to talk about their story on the podcast, hmm?” Michael knew how Lindsay was. He had walked into her workspace anticipating teasing, and so he simply rolled his eyes at her.

“That’s what Burnie just said,” he told her.

She cracked open a RedBull and leaned back in her chair, taking an unnecessarily long slurp of it and eyeing Michael.

“So are you gonna do it?” She asked finally. Michael shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said exasperatedly. “Gav really wants to, but I’m not sure. It’s such an important part of my life, _he’s_ such an important part of my life.”

“And?”

“And it’s a really intense story that I’m not sure I want everyone to know.”

“Why not? Everyone here knows already.”

“Thanks to you.” And it was true. A week or so after the airport incident, Michael noticed a very large group of the community knew very precise details of what had happened. Later, when complaining about it to Lindsay, she brushed off the comment.

“Oh yeah, it’s cause they’ve seen the video.”

Michael, taken aback, looked at her puzzledly. She only grinned.

“Naturally, at the same time I told Barb that you might try to back out, I also told her to record you when you saw Gavin. The result turned out to be much better than expected.”

“So what? You’ve been going around showing everyone?”

“No, no. It’s on the website. Only our staff can see it, of course. But it’s there.”

“Lindsay, what the fuck…” he couldn’t decide if he was enraged or amused.

“Don’t you want to be able to play it at your wedding?” she had asked so sweetly. “C’mon, I do these things as your friend.”

Michael couldn’t stay mad at her then, just as he couldn’t now.

“But it’s why you and I didn’t come out with our relationship,” he protested, “it puts so much pressure on you when people are watching.”

“Yeah, but you and me were never built to last, everyone knew that,” she insisted.

“I didn’t…” he muttered.

“Come on, Michael. Deep down, you must have had an inkling of the fact that we wouldn’t work.’

When he thought about it, she made him question it. Their relationship was drastically different from the one he was in now. People had held their breath around Michael and Lindsay, waiting for them to fight or bicker or end in a messy break-up. They supported it, but at an arm’s length. It was like they were all walking on eggshells for five months.

On the other hand, everyone loved Michael and Gavin together, and they thought their story was adorable. Everyone gushed over what a romantic Michael had been, to which he usually rolled his eyes. They didn’t mind seeing them together, ever. Michael and Gavin got invited to parties, out to eat, and now to talk on the podcast. maybe Lindsay had a point.

“I just don’t want to put it out there if it’s not permanent,” he explained. Eight months was a very long time for Michael.

“Are you serious about Gavin?”

“Of course!”

“Do you see your relationship as a permanent thing?”

“Yes,” Michael answered without a second’s hesitation. He didn’t even know the answer himself, but there it was. Yes. A look was exchanged in the silence; a wild, exhilarating feeling shared by the two them.

“Do you _want_ to talk about your story?”

“Yeah… I love talking about me and Gavin.”

She nodded, taking another drawn-out sip of RedBull. “Then do it.”

Michael felt sorted out. He thanked her and started to leave when she stopped him. Her intense eyes made contact with his softer ones.

“I forgot to ask. Do you love him?”

“With all my heart.”

* * *

That night, Gavin bounced up and down when Michael told him that he’d made up his mind. He offered Michael to play a game with him on the Xbox, but Michael turned him down, saying instead that he had to run an errand. Gavin nodded understandingly and gave Michael a kiss as Michael grabbed his keys and headed out.

As Michael drove towards downtown Austin, he couldn’t help but think of what a cynic he used to be before Gavin. He never believed in love at first sight, and he hardly believed in love at all. He never would have believed himself now if he told him the story of him and Gavin. Past Michael didn’t believe in miracles. But the world had given him the most beautiful miracle of all, and that was Gavin.

He also never believed in soulmates. He believed that people who married only got married because of their circumstances. He wasn’t sure exactly when his opinion on the matter changed, but if he had to make a guess it would be somewhere around the second drink in the hotel bar, when the magnetic feeling in his gut was pulling him toward Gavin.

Michael used to be somewhat of a loner, and he would have never expected that he’d find someone with whom he wanted to spend every second of every day, and he’d especially never have guessed that that person would be so terrible at video games.

In the months that he had known Gavin, Michael had become a better and happier person. He and Gavin pushed each other to be better versions of themselves every day. They always had fun together and Gavin always helped Michael feel better any time he was anxious. Michael always smiled anytime he was with Gavin or even if Gavin’s name just came up.

These were all things that Michael wanted to tell Gavin, and so much more. And the decision for the podcast had been made, along with a surprise Michael had been planning for a while.

* * *

Gavin, Michael, Barbara and Burnie all stood together, prepared for the podcast. Barbara had just finished successfully convincing a hesitant Michael to show the video after he and Gavin finished their story.

Gavin was bouncing around this way and that, as he always did before going on any stage of sorts. Finally, they all took their spots and the cameras went one. Each person introduced themselves and then Burnie spoke.

“Well, we have a very special story to tell today, a story Barb and myself were actually present to witness the end of. Or the end of the beginning of. And it even matches the theme of today, Valentines Day. We brought have Michael and Gavin here with us today so they can talk about their story.”  
  
Michael was on the couch with his arm draped across Gavin’s shoulders. He smiled slightly, though his grin on the inside was bigger. Gavin’s knee bounced up and down and he turned to his boyfriend as Burnie finished speaking.

“Micool, do you want to start?” Gavin asked. Michael swallowed and nodded, trying to calm his nerves.

“Yeah okay. Well, everything began on this rainy day in Paris…”

Michael told the whole story from beginning to end. He talked about getting over a breakup, though he didn’t say who, and going to Paris, seeing the Slow Mo Guys, going back to the hotel (he skipped the R rated details), flying home, being miserable, and finally, the reunion. Afterwards, he said he had to use the bathroom and left for a moment while Barbara played the video.

“We have a shit ton of people watched the podcast right now!” She whispered to him when they were both off camera. He smiled and nodded. Then he went to retrieve a small box he had purchased the day before when he told Gavin he was running an errand. When he returned, the video was nearing its end, seeing as Michael and Gavin were now liplocked.

Gavin was turned towards the direction of where it was playing, and Michael kneeled behind him. Burnie and Barbara saw him first, and upon hearing their gasps, Gavin turned too. Almost as if in slow motion, he raised his hand to cover his mouth in shock. His eyes watered and his face lit up.

“Gavin Free, I used to not believe in soulmates, or love at first sight, or any of that gooey bullshit, and then I met you. I love you more and more every day, even when we fight. I know everything about you and you know everything about me,” his voice nearly cracked on the last word. He was smiling like an ass and tearing up himself. “You make me happy like nothing else can, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, and I will never feel this way about anyone or anything ever again.

“So, I was wondering, Gavvy, if you would make me this happy every day for the rest of my life. Gavin Free, will you marry me?”

Gavin Free, whose face was wet with tears; Gavin Free, whose smile was bigger now than Michael had ever seen it; Gavin Free, whose face was lit up like the sun, giggled and said,

“Micool, you made a rhyme.”

Michael gave him an annoyed glance and he laughed halfheartedly, tears streaming down his face. He looked at Gavin pleadingly, still waiting for an answer.

“OH! Yes!! Yes you donut!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael and Michael picked him up and spun him around. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

The two laughed and kissed as Barb and Burnie wrapped up the podcast, commenting on the surprise ending. Michael had never been happier in his entire life. He felt like his life hadn’t truly started until he met Gavin, and now he could spend every last day of it with Gavin.

**Everything began on this rainy day in Paris…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to every single person who has taken the time to read this, it means so so so much!! I love you all & happy shipping!


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